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PRESENTED BY 



The Case is Altered 



A COMEDY 



±9 



By 
BEN JONSON 



PRESENTED BY STUDENTS IN THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO AT 

THE AUDITORIUM THEATER, MAY SEVENTEENTH, 

NINETEEN HUNDRED AND TWO 



Revised after the original edition of i6og 




CHICAGO 

THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO PRESS 
1902 






P. 



INTRODUCTION. 

The text of the following reprint of Ben Jonson's 
The Case is Altered is based upon that of the Gifford- 
Cunningham edition, carefully revised, however, after a 
transcript (made by Mr. S. A. Chevalier) of the copy of 
the original edition of 1609 now in the Barton collection 
in the Boston Public Library. The old stage directions 
have been restored, although most of those added by mod- 
ern editors have been retained ; the old division into acts 
and scenes has been restored so far as it goes ; the punctu- 
ation has been renovated ; and some forty or fifty altera- 
tions have been made in the modern text itself to bring it 
into closer conformity with theoriginal; so that altogether, 
as here presented, the case is considerably altered ! 

The play seems to have been one of Jonson's early 
studies, before he had definitely renounced the romantic 
vein and the Italian atmosphere found in most of the 
contemporary dramatists ; and, aside from the first ver- 
sion of Every Man in His Humour, it seems to be the only 
one which has come down to us from among the various 
pieces of this period in which we have reason to believe 
that he had a hand. Its date is pretty definitely fixed by 
the fact that the words of Act I, Scene 1. "You are in 
print already for the best plotter," applied to Antonio 
Balladino, are plainly a reference to a passage in Meres' 
Palladis Tamia, published in the autumn of 1598, which 
cites Anthony Munday as " our best plotter " ; and by 
the further fact that The Case is Altered is definitely men- 
tioned by name in Nash's Lenten Stuff, which appeared in 
1599. Our play first appeared in print in 1609 — appar- 
ently a surreptitious publication, for it was afterwards 
included in neither the folio collection of Jonson's plays 



iv INTRODUCTION 

in 1616, nor in the second folio volume the separate 
contents of which bear various dates from 163 1 to 1641, 
and the text and typography of the 1609 quarto are as 
careless and corrupt as possible. 

It is highly interesting as a specimen of Jonson's 
work in his formative years. It prompts speculation as 
to what he might have done in the romantic vein had he 
gone on in this way. There are in it scenes which sug- 
gest the sprightly encounters of the youths and pages in 
Lyly's comedies. There are passages of word-play and 
fun and the sympathetic depicting of colloquial and 
familiar humors which are like similar passages in Chap- 
man or even in the early comedies of Shakspere ; pas- 
sages of gallantry, too, wit-combats of man's tongue and 
woman's tongue, and a tale of romantic love and devo- 
tion, which bear the type-marks of the school of the 
Shakspere of the first period. Played by child actors, 
at the Blackfriars Theater, it is purposely slight in struc- 
ture and avoids strenuous or serious feeling. The figure 
of the miser and the story of his gold and of the wooing 
of his daughter is drawn from the Aulularia of Plautus ; 
the figures of the father, of the one son expecting redemp- 
tion from captivity, and of the other son long lost and 
exchanging names with his patron that the latter may the 
more readily escape, from his Captivi. The germs of 
Jonson's later study of formidable " humours " are here 
in the character of Jaques, of Christophero, and even of 
Count Ferneze, just as his later literary satires and the- 
atrical wars are here prefigured in the burlesque of 
Anthony Munday under the figure of Antonio Balladino, 
and just as the farcical movement and rich study of man- 
ners of his Bartholomew Fair are here in prototype in the 
scenes with Onion, Juniper, and the pages. The comedy 



INTRODUCTION v 

as a whole is lively and ingenious, as Gifford has said, 
and in the vein of farce it has sufficient lightness and 
"elegance " of composition ; as Mr. Swinburne has writ- 
ten, it is "an excellent example of romantic comedy 
dashed with farce and flavoured with poetry." 

There is no list of the characters of the play accom- 
panying the original edition. As an introduction to 
these, accordingly, the editor and not the author offers 
the following list of the 

DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
Count Ferneze, lord of Milan. Peter Onion, groom of the hall. 
Lord Paulo Ferneze, his elder son, Juniper, a cobbler, and retainer 

and soldier with Maximilian ; to Count Ferneze. A malaprop. 

in love with Rachel. Valentine, servant to Colonnia. 

Camillo Ferneze, supposed Gasper, p aC ue, a French page. 

a younger son, long lost; pro- Fini0j a p ag ^ 

te'ge' of Chamont. 

Page to Paulo. 
Lord Chamont, a soldier of France. 

Maximilian, general of the forces 

of Milan. 
Francisco Colonnia, a gentleman 

of Milan. 
Angelo, gentleman and friend to 

Paulo. 
Jaques dePrie, a beggar andmiser, Rachel de Prie, supposed daughter 

really Melun, and formerly stew- to f agues ; really Isabel, sister 

ard to Chamont' s father. to Chamont. 

Antonio Balladino, pageant poet Aurelia, sprightly,' 

(Anthony Munday). witty 

Christophero, Count Ferneze 's Phcenixella, sober, 

steward. demure 

Sebastian, 



daughters to 

Count 

Ferneze. 



Martino, 

Vincentio, 

Balthasar, 



- his servants. Sewer, Messenger, Servants, etc. 

SCENE : Milan. 



vi INTRODUCTION 

The following is a brief 

SYNOPSIS OF THE ACTION. 

The plot is a complication of contretemps, each strand 
of the story having an outcome in the discomfiture of 
some character or some change of fortune by which the 
Case is Altered. 

ACT I. 

Scene i : The humors of Onion and Juniper, who are called to assist 
in serving at Count Ferneze's. Antonio Balladino, the pageant 
poet (covert satire on Anthony Munday, a contemporary 
poetaster). Valentine heralds the return of his master, Fran- 
cisco Colonnia, from his travels, and learns that the household 
is in mourning for the recent death of the Lady Ferneze. 

Scene 2 : The humors of Juniper and Valentine. The wonders of 
travel. 

Scene j : Further conference of the servants. Introduction of Chris- 
tophero, the steward. Lord Paulo is about to accompany 
Maximilian in the impending expedition against the French. 

Scene 4. : Lord Paulo, about to depart, entrusts the care and protec- 
tion of his love, Rachel, to his nearest friend, Angelo. 

Scene 3 : The irascible Count Ferneze sets the household in an 
uproar seeking for his son Paulo. Onion in high dudgeon, and 
cashiered. Juniper intercedes for him. Maximilian, who has 
taken offense at Onion's conduct, yields his pardon. Leave- 
taking by Maximilian and Paulo. Wit-combat between Aurelia 
and Angelo. Maximilian answers to Count Ferneze for Paulo's 
safety, and hears the story of the loss of the other son, Camillo. 

Scene 6: Maximilian goes on before. Paulo parts from Rachel, 
commending Angelo to her. Jaques appears. 

ACT II. 

Scene 1 : Soliloquy of Jaques, who tells his history and that of 
Rachel. Rachel cautioned against housebreakers. 

Scene 2 : Onion tells Christophero of his love for Rachel and asks 
his help. Christophero resolves to seek her for himself, with 
the aid of Count Ferneze. 

Scene j : Aurelia and Phcenixella : the contrast in their characters. 



INTRODUCTION vii 

Scene 4. : Further wit-combats, Aurelia vs. Angelo, Phcenixella vs. 

Francisco. 
Scene [j] .• Count Ferneze twits Angelo with his flirtations. 
Scene \6\ : Christophero secures Count Ferneze's furtherance to his 

suit for Rachel. 
Scene [7] .• Humors of Juniper, Onion, and the servants. Valentine 

discourses on the theaters of Utopia (England). Cudgel-play 

between Onion and Martino in which the former gets his head 

broken. 

ACT III. 

Scene 1 : Angelo, false to his friend, seeks the love of Rachel. 

Scene 2 : Christophero entreats Jaques for the hand of Rachel. 
Alarm of Jaques for his gold. 

Scene j : Count Ferneze himself, finally, comes to cut out his stew- 
ard and win the hand of Rachel. 

Scene 4 : A messenger announces to Count Ferneze that his son 
Paulo has been taken prisoner by the French. This cures him 
of love. He prepares to ransom Paulo. 

Scene 5 : Jaques the miser and his gold. 

ACT IV. 

Scene 1 : Return of Maximilian, with his prisoners Chamont and 
Camillo. As a precaution these have exchanged names ; so 
that Maximilian is deceived as to the identity of each. He 
retains Camillo (Gasper), supposing him to be the Lord Cha- 
mont, as a hostage, and determines to send off the real Chamont 
to arrange an exchange of prisoners, Paulo for the supposed 
Chamont. But Pacue, the page/knows the secret. The two 
French prisoners meet the count and his daughters. Phcenixella 
is taken with Gasper, Aurelia with Chamont. 

Scene 2 : Pacue and Finio, the pages, practice their steps to the 
admiration and edification of Onion. 

Scene j : Parting of Chamont from Camillo. The former promises 
to return on the day set and redeem his friend. 

Scene 4 : Onion's love-lunes. He gets Juniper's aid. 

Scene 3 : Angelo tries to woo Rachel away from the memory of 
Paulo. Onion and Juniper interrupt. Onion's wooing. The 
return of Jaques, who drives Juniper off, while Onion unespied 



viii INTRODUCTION 

hides in a tree, whence he later sees Jaques unearth his treasure, 
gloat over it, replace it, and depart. Onion and Juniper run 
off with Jaques' gold. 
Scene 6 : Pacue has revealed the secret of the identity of Camillo. 
Count Ferneze accuses Maximilian of being a party to the plot. 
They quarrel. 

ACT V. 

Scene i : Angelo gets Christophero to lure Jaques away from home 
by dropping gold pieces as he departs and calling to Jaques to 
follow. Whereupon Angelo gets Rachel to follow him on the 
pretext of a message from Paulo summoning her. Jaques 
returns and discovers his loss of both gold and daughter. 

Scene 2 : Juniper and Onion, roistering, are spending their loot and 
setting up as gentlemen. They are baited by the pages. 

Scene 3 : Angelo woos Rachel, in vain. Paulo returning with Cha- 
mont comes upon them, rescues Rachel, and discovers Angelo's 
treachery, which, however, he soon pardons. 

Scene 4. ; Camillo is condemned to execution by Count Ferneze 
because Chamont has not returned at the hour appointed. 
Execution is delayed by the irruption of Christophero clamor- 
ing for his lost love and of Jaques clamoring for his gold ; the 
Count joins his clamors for his lost son to theirs. The return 
of Paulo is announced to the Count. They enter. Reunion 
and explanations. Discovery Scene : Chamont hears of the 
story of the long lost son and proves that Gasper is he. 
Phcenixella loses a lover but gains a brother. 

Jaques demands justice. His story is forced from him, and 
the identity of Rachel with Isabel, the long lost sister of Cha- 
mont, is established. Paulo receives her hand, while Chamont 
receives Aurelia's. Onion and Juniper are sent to punishment. 

Maximilian epiloguizes. 

F. I. C. 



A Pleafant Comedy, 

CALLED. 

The Cafe is Alcerd. 



As it hath beenc (bndiy times acled by the 
children of the Black-friers. 

'Written by Bun. Iohson* 




LONDO^ 
Printed for Bartholomew Sutm, zx\&tViBimBdrrenger 7 
and arc to be fold at the great North-doore 
of Saint Panics Church. 1 6 o p t 



Actus Primi — S coma prima. 

Sound! After a flotirish, Juniper, a cobbler, is discovered, 
sitting at work in his shop, and singing. 

Jun. "You woful wights, give ear awhile, 
And mark the tenor of my style, 
Which shall such trembling hearts unfold, 
As seldom hath to-fore been told. 
Such chances rare, and doleful news," 

Enter Onion, in haste. 

Oni. Fellow Juniper ! peace a God's name. 

Jun. "As may attempt your wits to muse." 

07ii. God's so, hear, man! a pox a God on you ! 

Jun. "And cause such trickling tears to pass, 
Except your hearts be flint or brass;" 

Oni. Juniper ! Juniper ! 

Jun. "To hear the news which I shall tell, 
That in Castella once befell" — 

'Sblood, where didst thou learn to corrupt a 
man in the midst of a verse, ha ? 

Oni. God's lid, man, service is ready to go up, 
man ; you must slip on your coat, and come in ; 
we lack waiters pitifully. 

Jun. A pitiful hearing ; for now must I of a 
merry cobbler become a mourning creature. 

Oni. Well, you'll come ? 

Jun. Presto ! Go to, a word to the wise ; away, 
fly, vanish ! [Exit Onion. 

Lie there the weeds that I disdain to wear. 
[Enter A?itonio Balladino.^ 

Ant. God save you, Master Juniper ! 
Jun. What, Signior Antonio Balladino ! wel- 
come, sweet ingle. 

3 



4 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

Ant. And how do you, sir ? 

Jun. Faith, you see, put to my shifts here, as 
poor retainers be oftentimes. Sirrah Antony, 
there's one of my fellows mightily enamoured of 
thee ; and i'faith, you slave, now you are come, I'll 
bring you together : it's Peter Onion, the groom 
of the hall ; do you know him ? 

Ant. No, not yet, I assure you. 

Jun. O, he is one as right of thy humour as may 
be, a plain simple rascal, a true dunce ; marry, he 
hath been a notable villain in his time : he is in 
love, sirrah, with a wench, and I have preferred 
thee to him ; thou shalt make him some pretty 
paradox, or some allegory. How does my coat 
sit ? well ? 

Ant. Ay, very well. 

Re-enter Onion. 

Oni. Nay, God's so, fellow Juniper, come away. 

Jun. Art thou there, mad slave ? I come with 
a powder ! Sirrah, fellow Onion, I must have you 
peruse this gentleman well, and do him good 
offices of respect and kindness, as instance shall 
be given. [Exit. 

Ant. Nay, good Master Onion [Onion bows 
very low'], what do you mean ? I pray you, sir — 
you are too respective, in good faith. 

Oni. I would not you should think so, sir ; for 
though I have no learning, yet I honour a scholar 
in any ground of the earth, sir. Shall I request 
your name, sir ? 

Ant. My name is Antonio Balladino. 

Oni. Balladino! you are not pageant poet to 
the city of Milan, sir, are you ? 

Ant. I supply the place, sir, when a worse can- 
not be had, sir. 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 5 

Oni. I cry you mercy, sir ; I love you the bet- 
ter for that, sir ; you must pardon me, I knew you 
not ; but I'ld pray to be better acquainted with 
you ; sir, I have seen of your works. 

Ant. I am at your service, good Master Onion ; 
but concerning this maiden that you love, sir, what 
is she ? 

Oni. O, did my fellow Juniper tell you ? Marry, 
sir, she is, as one may say, but a poor man's child 
indeed, and for mine own part, I am no gentleman 
born, I must confess ; but my mind to me a king- 
dom is, truly. 

Ant. Truly a very good saying. 

Oni. 'Tis somewhat stale ; but that's no matter. 

Ant. O 'tis the better ; such things ever are 
like bread, which the staler it is, the more whole- 
some. 

Oni. This is but a hungry comparison, in my 
judgment. 

Ant. Why, I'll tell you, Master Onion, I do use 
as much stale stuff, though I say it myself, as any 
man does in that kind, I am sure, Did you see 
the last pageant I set forth ? 

Oni. No, faith, sir ; but there goes a huge re- 
port on't. 

Ant. Why, you shall be one of my Maecenasses ; 
I'll give you one of the books; O, you'll like it 
admirably. 

Oni. Nay, that's certain ; I'll get my fellow Jun- 
iper to read it. 

Ant. Read it, sir ! I'll read it to you. 

Oni. Tut, then I shall not choose but like it. 

Ant. Why look you, sir, I write so plain and 
keep that old decorum that you must of necessity 
like it; marry, you shall have some now (as for 
example, in plays) that will have every day new 



6 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

tricks, and write you nothing but humours : indeed 
this pleases the gentlemen, but the common sort 
they care not fort ; they know not what to make 
on't ; they look for good matter, they, and are not 
edified with such toys. 

Oni. You are in the right, I'll not give a half- 
penny to see a thousand on 'em. I was at one 
the last term ; but and ever 1 see a more roguish 
thing, I am a piece of cheese, and no Onion : noth- 
ing but kings and princes in it ; the fool came not 
out a jot. 

Ant. True, sir ; they would have me make such 
plays ; but as I tell 'em, and they'll give me twenty 
pound a play, I'll not raise my vein. 

Oni. No, it were a vain thing and you should, sir. 

Ant. Tut, give me the penny, give me the 
penny, I care not for the gentlemen, I; let me have 
a good ground, no matter for the pen, the plot 
shall carry it. 

Oni. Indeed that's right; you are in print already 
for the best plotter. 

Ant. Ay, I might as well have been put in for a 
dumb show too. 

Oni. Ay, marry, sir, I marie you were not. 
Stand aside, sir, a while. — [Exit Antonio. 

[Enter an armed Sewer, some half dozen in mourn- 
i?ig coats following, and pass by with service. 

E?iter Valentine. 

How now, friend, what are you there ? be uncov- 
ered. Would you speak with any man here ? 

Val. Ay, or else I must ha' returned you no 
answer. 

Oni. Friend, you are somewhat too peremptory; 
let's crave your absence ; nay, never scorn it, I am 
a little your better in this place. 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 7 

Val. I do acknowledge it. 

Oni. Do you acknowledge it? nay, then you shall 
go forth ; I'll teach you how [you] shall acknowl- 
edge it another time ; go to, void, I must have the 
hall purged ; no setting up of a rest here ; pack, 
begone ! 

Val. I pray you, sir, is not your name Onion ? 

Oni. Your friend as you may use him, and Mas- 
ter Onion ; say on. 

Val. Master Onion, with a murrain ! come, put 
put off this lion's hide, your ears have discovered 
you. Why, Peter ! do not I know you, Peter ? 

Oni. God's so, Valentine ! 

Val. O, can you take knowledge of me now, sir? 

Oni. Good Lord, sirrah, how thou art altered 
with thy travel ! 

Val. Nothing so much as thou art with thine 
office ; but, sirrah Onion, is the Count Ferneze at 
home ? 

Oni. Ay, bully, he is above, and the Lord Paulo 
Ferneze, his son, and Madam Aurelia and Madam 
Phcenixella, his daughters ; but, O Valentine ! 

Val. How now, man ! how dost thou ? 

Oni. Faith, sad, heavy, as a man of my coat 
ought to be. 

Val. Why, man, thou wert merry enough even 
now. 

Oni. True ; but thou knowest 

"All creatures here sojourning, 
Upon this wretched earth, 
Sometimes have a fit of mourning, 
As well as a fit of mirth." 

O Valentine, mine old lady is dead, man. 
Val. Dead! 
Oni. I' faith. 



8 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

Val. When died she ? 

Oni. Marry, to-morrow shall be three months; 
she was seen going to heaven, they say, about some 
five weeks agone — how now? trickling tears, ha! 

Val. Faith, thou hast made me weep with this 
news. 

Oni. Why, I have done but the part of an 
Onion ; you must pardon me. 

SCjENE 2. 

Enter the Sewer ; pass by with service again, the serving 
men take knowledge of Valentine as they go. Juniper 
salutes him. 

Jun. What, Valentine ! fellow Onion, take my 
dish, I prithee. [Exit Onion with the dish.'] You 
rogue, sirrah, tell me how thou dost, sweet ingle. 

Val. Faith, Juniper, the better to see thee thus 
frolic. 

Jun. Nay! 'slid, I am no changeling; I am Juni- 
per still. I keep the pristinate ; ha, you mad hier- 
oglyphic, when shall we swagger ? 

Val. Hieroglyphic! what meanest thou by that? 
Jun. Mean! God's so, is it not a good word, man? 
what, stand upon meaning with your friends ? 
Puh ! abscond. 

Val. Why, but stay, stay ; how long has this 
sprightly humour haunted thee ? 

Jun. Foh, humour ! a foolish natural gift we 
have in the .^Equinoctial. 

Val. Natural! 'slid, it may be supernatural, this. 
Jun. Valentine, I prithee ruminate thyself wel- 
come. What, Jortuna de la gtierraf 

Val. O how pitifully are these words forced, as 
though they were pumpt out on's belly. 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 9 

Jun. Sirrah ingle, I think thou hast seen all the 
strange countries in Christendom since thouwent'st. 
Veil. I have seen some, Juniper. 
Jun. You have seen Constantinople ? 
Val. Ay, that I have. 

Jun. And Jerusalem, and the Indies, and Good- 
win Sands, and the Tower of Babylon, and Venice, 
and all ? 

Val. Ay, all ; no marie and he ha' a nimble 
tongue, if he practise to vault thus from one side 
of the world to another. [Aside. 

Jun. O, it's a most heavenly thing to travel and 
see countries ; especially at sea, an a man had a 
patent not to be sick. 

Val. O, sea-sick jest, and full of the scurvy! 

Sc/ene 3. 

Re-etiter Juniper, Sebastian, Martino, Vincentio, and 
Balthasar. 

Seb. Valentine ! welcome, i' faith ; how dost, 
sirrah ? 

Mar. How do you, good Valentine ? 

Vin. Troth, Valentine, I am glad to see you. 

Bal. Welcome, sweet rogue. 

Seb. Before God, he never looked better in his 
life. 

Bal. And how is't, man? what alio coragio? 

Val. Never better, gentlemen, i' faith. 

Jun. 'S will ! here comes the steward. 
Enter Christophero. 

Chris. Why, how now, fellows ! all here, and 
nobody to wait above, now they are ready to rise ? 
Look up, one or two. [Exeunt Juniper, Martino, 
and Vincentio.] Signior Francisco Colonnia's 
man, how does your good master ? 



io THE CASE IS ALTERED 

Veil. In health, sir ; he will be here anon. 

Chris. Is he come home then ? 

Val. Ay, sir ; he is not past six miles hence ; 
he sent me before to learn if Count Ferneze were 
here, and return him word. 

Chris. Yes, my lord is here ; and you may tell 
your master he shall come very happily to take his 
leave of Lord Paulo Ferneze; who is now instantly 
to depart with other noble gentlemen upon special 
service. 

Val. I will tell him, sir. 

Chris. I pray you do ; fellows, make him drink. 

Val. Sirs, what service is it they are employed 
in? 

Seb. Why, against the French ; they mean to 
have a fling at Milan again, they say. 

Val. Who leads our forces, can you tell ? 

Seb. Marry, that does Signior Maximilian ; he 
is above now. 

Val. Who ! Maximilian of Vicenza ? 

Bait. Ay, he ; do you know him ? 

Val. Know him ! O yes, he's an excellent 
brave soldier. 

Bait. Ay, so they say : but one of the most 
vainglorious men in Europe. 

Val. He is indeed ; marry, exceeding valiant. 

Seb. And that is rare. 

Bait. What? 

Seb. Why, to see a vainglorious man valiant. 

Val. Well, he is so, I assure you. 

Re-enter Juniper. 

Jun. What, no further yet ! Come on, you 
precious rascal, Sir Valentine; I'll give you a health, 
i' faith ; fore the heavens, you mad Capriccio, hold 
hook and line. [Exeunt. 



THE CASE IS ALTERED n 

SC^ENE 4. 
E?iter Lord Paulo Ferneze, his Boy following him. 

Pau. Boy ! 

Boy. My Lord. 

Pate. Sirrah, go up to Signior Angelo, 
And pray him, if he can, devise some means 
To leave my father, and come, speak with me. 

Boy. I will, my lord. [Exit. 

Pan. Well, heaven be auspicious in the event ; 
For I do this against my Genius ! 
And yet my thoughts cannot propose a reason 
Why I should fear or faint thus in my hopes 
Of one so much endeared to my love. 
Some spark it is, kindled within the soul, 
Whose light yet breaks not to the outward sense, 
That propagates this timorous suspect ; 
His actions never carried any face 
Of change or weakness ; then I injure him 
In being thus cold-conceited of his faith, — 
O, here he comes. 

Enter Angelo [followed by Boy]. 

Ang. How now, sweet lord, what's the matter? 
Pau. Good faith, his presence makes me half 
asham'd 
Of my stray'd thoughts. — Boy, bestow yourself. — 

[Exit Boy. 

Where is my father, Signior Angelo ? 

Ang. Marry, in the gallery, where your lord- 
ship left him. 
Pau. That's well. Then, Angelo, I will be 
brief, 
Since time forbids the use of circumstance. 
How well you are received in my affection 
Let it appear by this one instance only, 



i2 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

That now I will deliver to your trust 

The dearest secrets treasur'd in my bosom. 

Dear Angelo, you are not every man, 

But one whom my election hath design'd 

As the true proper object of my soul. 

I urge not this to insinuate my desert, 

Or supple your tried temper with soft phrases ; 

True friendship loathes such oily compliment : 

But from the abundance of that love that flows 

Through all my spirits is my speech enforc'd. 

Ang. Before your lordship do proceed too far, 
Let me be bold to intimate thus much : 
That whatsoe'er your wisdom hath to expose, 
Be it the weightiest and most rich affair 
That ever was included in your breast, 
My faith shall poise it; if not — 

Pau. O, no more ; 
Those words have rapt me with their sweet effects. 
So freely breath'd, and so responsible 
To that which I endeavored to extract, 
Arguing a happy mixture of our souls. 

Ang . Why, were there no such sympathy, sweet 
lord, 
Yet the impressure of those ample favours 
I have deriv'd from your unmatched spirit, 
Would bind my faith to all observances. 

Pau. How ! favours, Angelo ! O speak not of 
them ; 
They are mere paintings, and import no merit. 
Looks my love well ? thereon my hopes are plac'd! 
Faith that is bought with favours cannot last. 
Enter Boy. 

Boy. My lord. 

Pau. How now ! 

Boy. You are sought for all about the house 
within ; the count your father calls for you. 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 13 

Pau. God ! 
What cross events do meet my purposes ! 
Now will he violently fret and grieve 
That I am absent. — Boy, say I come presently. 

\Exit Boy. 
Sweet Angelo, I cannot now insist 
Upon particulars ; I must serve the time. 
The main of all this is, I am in love. 

Ang. Why starts your lordship ? 

Pau. I thought I heard my father coming 
hitherward. 
List, ha ! 

Ang. I hear not anything. 
It was but your imagination, sure. 

Pau. No! 

Ang. No, I assure your lordship. 

Pau. I would work safely. 

Ang. Why, 
Has he no knowledge of it then ? 

Pau. O no ; 
No creature yet partakes it but yourself, 
In a third person ; and believe me, friend, 
The world contains not now another spirit 
To whom I would reveal it. Hark ! hark ! 

Servants\within^\ Signior Paulo! Lord Ferneze! 

Ang. A pox upon those brazen-throated slaves ! 
What, are they mad, trow ? 

Pau. Alas, blame not them. 
Their services are, clock-like, to be set 
Backward and forward, at their lord's command. 
You know my father's wayward, and his humour 
Must not receive a check; for then all objects 
Feed both his grief and his impatience, 
And those affections in him are like powder, 
Apt to inflame with every little spark, 
And blow up reason ; therefore, Angelo, peace. 



i 4 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

Count F. \_within~\. Why, this is rare ; is he not 

in the garden ? 
Chris. \^within\. I know not, my lord. 
Count F. \_within\ See, call him. 
Pau. He is coming this way; let's withdraw a 

little. [Exeunt. 

Ser. \within\ Signior Paulo! Lord Ferneze ! 

Lord Paulo ! 

SC^ENE 5. 

Enter Count Ferneze, Maximilian, Aurelia, Phcenixella, 
Sebastian, and Balthasar. 

Count F. Where should he be, trow ? did you 

look in the armory ? 
Seb. No, my lord. 
Count F. No ? why there ! O, who would keep 

such drones ! — [Exeunt Seb. and Bal. 

Enter Martino. 

How now, ha' ye found him ? 
Mart. No, my lord. 

Count F. No, my lord! I shall have shortly all 
my family 
Speak nought but No, my lord. Where is Chris- 

tophero ? 
Look how he stands ! you sleepy knave — 

Exit Martino. 

Enter Christophero. 

What, is he not in the garden ? 
Chris. No, my good lord. 

Count F. Your good lord! O, how this smells 
of fennel ! 
You have been in the garden, it appears : well, 
well. 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 15 

Re-enter Sebastian and Balthasar. 

Bal. We cannot find him, my lord. 

Seb. He is not in the armory. 

Count F. He is not ! he is no where, is he ? 

Max. Count Ferneze ! 

Count F. Signior. 

Max. Preserve your patience, honourable count. 

Count F. Patience ! 
A saint would lose his patience to be crost 
As I am with a sort of motley brains ; 
See, see how like a nest of rooks they stand, 
Gaping on one another ! 

Enter Onion. 

Now, Diligence ! 
What news bring you ? 

Oni. An't please your honour — 

Count F. Tut, tut, leave pleasing of my honour, 
Diligence ; you double with me, come. 

Oni. How ! does he find fault with please his 
honour? 'Swounds, it has begun a serving-man's 
speech ever since I belonged to the blue order ; 
I know not how it may show, now I am in black ; 
but — [Aside. 

Count F. What's that you mutter, sir ; will you 
proceed ? 

0?ii. An't like your good lordship — 

Count F. Yet more ! God's precious ! 

Oni. What, do not this like him neither? 

[Aside. 

Count F. What say you, sir knave ? 

Oni. Marry, I say your lordship were best to 
set me to school again, to learn how to deliver a 
message. 

Count F) |What, do you take exceptions at me 
then? 



16 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

Oni. Exceptions ! I take no exceptions ; but 
by God's so, your humours — 

Count F. Go to, you are a rascal ; hold your 
tongue. 

Oni. Your lordship's poor servant, I. 

Count F. Tempt not my patience. 

Oni. Why I hope I am no spirit, am I ? 

Max. My lord, command your steward to cor- 
rect the slave. 

Oni. Correct him ! 'sblood, come you and cor- 
rect him and you have a mind to it. Correct him! 
that's a good jest, i' faith: the steward and you 
both come and correct him. 

Count F. Nay, see ! away with him, pull his 
cloth over his ears. 

Oni. Cloth ! tell me of your cloth ! here's your 
cloth; nay, and I mourn a minute longer, I am the 
rottenest Onion that ever spake with a tongue. 

[ They thrust him out. 

Max. What call [you] your hind's [name], 
Count Ferneze ? 

Count F. His name is Onion, signior. 

Max. I thought him some such saucy com- 
panion. 

Count F. Signior Maximilian. 

Max. Sweet lord. 

Count F. Let me entreat you, you would not 
regard 
Any contempt flowing from such a spirit ; 
So rude, so barbarous. 

Max. Most noble count, 
Under your favour — 

Count F. Why, I'll tell you, signior. 
He'll bandy with me word for word ; nay more, 
Put me to silence, strike me perfect dumb ; 
And so amaze me, that oftentimes I know not 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 17 

Whether to check or cherish his presumption : 
Therefore, good signior — 

Max. Sweet lord, satisfy yourself I am not 
now to learn how to manage my affections. I 
have observed and know the difference between 
a base wretch and a true man ; I can distinguish 
them : the property of the wretch is, he would 
hurt, and cannot ; of the man, he can hurt, and 
will not. [Aurelia smiles. 

Count F. Go to, my merry daughter ; O these 
looks 
Agree well with your habit, do they not ? 

Enter Juniper \in his cobbler s drcss\ 

Jun. Tut, let me alone. By your favour, this is 
the gentleman, I think. Sir, you appear to be an 
honourable gentleman ; I understand, and could 
wish for mine own part that things were conden't 
otherwise than they are; but (the world knows) 
a foolish fellow somewhat proclive and hasty, he 
did it in a prejudicate humour; marry now, upon 
better computation he wanes, he melts, his poor 
eyes are in a cold sweat. Right noble signior, 
you can have but compunction ; I love the man ; 
tender your compassion. 

Max. Doth any man here understand this 
fellow ? 

Jun. O God, sir ! I may say frustra to the 
comprehension of your intellection. 

Max. Before the Lord, he speaks all riddle, I 
think. I must have a comment ere I can conceive 
him. 

Count F. Wh)-, he sues to have his fellow 
Onion pardoned ; and you must grant it, signior. 

Max. O, with all my soul, my lord ; is that his 
motion ? 



1 8 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

Ju?i. Ay, sir; and we shall retort these kind 
favours with all alacrity of spirit we can, sir, as 
may be most expedient, as well for the quality as 
the cause ; till when, in spite of this compliment, 
I rest a poor cobbler, servant to my honourable 
lord here, your friend and Juniper. [Exit. 

Max. How, Juniper ! 

Count F. Ay, signior. 

Max. He is a sweet youth ; his tongue has a 
happy turn when he sleeps. 

Enter Paulo Ferneze, Francisco Colonnia, Angelo, 
and Valentine. 

Count F. Ay, for then it rests. — O sir, you're 
welcome. 
Why, God be thanked, you are found at last : 
Signior Colonnia, truly you are welcome ; 
I am glad to see you, sir, so well returned. 

Fran. I gladly thank your honour ; yet, indeed 
I am sorry for such cause of heaviness 
As hath possest your lordship in my absence. 

Count F. O, Francisco, you knew her what she 
was ! 

Fran. She was a wise and honourable lady. 

Count F. Ay, was she not ! well, weep not she 
is gone. 
Passion's dull'd eye can make two griefs of one. 
Whom death marks out, virtue nor blood can save : 
Princes, as beggars, all must feed the grave. 

Max. Are your horses ready, Lord Paulo ? 

Pau. Ay, signior ; they stay for us at the gate. 

Max. Well, 'tis good. — Ladies, I will take my 
leave of you ; be your fortunes as yourselves, 
fair! — come, let us to horse! Count Ferneze, I 
bear a spirit full of thanks for all your honourable 
courtesies. 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 19 

Count F. Sir, I could wish the number and 
value of them more in respect of your deservings. 
But, Signior Maximilian, I pray you a word in 
private. \_They walk aside. 

Aur. I' faith, brother, you are fitted for a gen- 
eral yonder. Beshrew my heart, if I had Fortu- 
natus' hat here, and I would not wish myself a 
man, and go with you, only to enjoy his presence. 

Pan. Why, do you love him so well, sister ? 

Aur. No, by my troth ; but I have such an odd 
pretty apprehension of his humour, methinks, that 
I am e'en tickled with the conceit of it. O, he is 
a fine man. 

Ang. And methinks another may be as fine 
as he. 

Aur. O, Angelo, do you think I do urge any 
comparison against you? no, I am not so ill-bred as 
to be a depraver of your worthiness ; believe me, 
if I had not some hope of your abiding with us, I 
should never desire to go out of black whilst I 
lived, but learn to speak i' the nose, and turn 
Puritan presently. 

Ang. I thank you, lady ; I know you can flout. 

Aur. Come, do not take it so ! i' faith, you 
wrong me. 

Fran. Ay, but, madam, 
Thus to disclaim in all the effects of pleasure 
May make your sadness seem too much affected, 
And then the proper grace of it is lost. 

Phcen. Indeed, sir, if I did put on this sadness 
Only abroad and in society, 

And were in private merry and quick humour'd, 
Then might it seem affected and abhorr'd : 
But, as my looks appear, such is my spirit, 
Drown'd up with confluence of grief and melan- 
choly; 



2o THE CASE IS ALTERED 

That, like to rivers, run through all my veins, 
Quenching the pride and fervour of my blood. 

Max. My honourable lord, no more. 
There is the honour of my blood engag'd 
For your son's safety. 

Count F. Signior, blame me not 
For tending his security so much ; 
He is mine only son, and that word only 
Hath, with his strong and repercussive sound, 
Struck my heart cold and given it a deep wound. 

Max. Why, but stay, I beseech you ; had your 
lordship ever any more sons than this ? 

Count F. Why, have not you known it, Maxi- 
milian ? 

Max. Let my sword fail me then. 

Count F. I had one other, younger born than 
this 
By twice so many hours as would fill 
The circle of a year; his name Camillo, 
Whom in that black and fearful night I lost 
('Tis now a nineteen years agone at least, 
And yet the memory of it sits as fresh 
Within my brain as 'twere but yesterday), — 
It was that night wherein the great Chamont, 
The general for France, surprised Vicenza ; 
Methinks the horror of that clamorous shout 
His soldiers gave when they attain'd the wall 
Yet tingles in mine ear : methinks I see 
With what amazed looks, distracted thoughts, 
And minds confus'd, we that were citizens 
Confronted one another ; every street 
Was filled with bitter self-tormenting cries, 
And happy was that foot that first could press 
The flowery champain bordering on Verona. 
Here I, employ'd about my dear wife's safety, 
Whose soul is now in peace, lost my Camillo ; 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 21 

Who sure was murdered by the barbarous soldiers, 
Or else I should have heard — my heart is great. 
"Sorrow is faint, and passion makes me sweat." 

Max. Grieve not, sweet count, comfort your 
spirits ; you have a son, a noble gentleman ; he 
stands in the face of honour; for his safety, let 
that be no question ; I am master of my fortune, 
and he shall share it with me. Farewell, my hon- 
ourable lord : ladies, once more adieu. For your- 
self, madam, you are a most rare creature ; I tell 
you so; be not proud of it : I love you. — Come, 
Lord Paulo, to horse. 

Pau. Adieu, good Signior Francisco ; farewell, 
sister. 

[SC^ENE 6.] 

Sound a tucket, and as they pass everyone severally depart. 
Maximilian, Paulo Ferneze, and Angelo remain. 

Ang. How shall we rid him hence ? 
Pau. Why, well enough. — Sweet Signior Maxi- 
milian, 
I have some small occasion to stay; 
If it may please you but take horse afore, 
I'll overtake you ere your troops be rang'd. 

Max. Your motion doth taste well ; Lord Fer- 
neze, I go. [Exit. 
Pau. Now, if my love, fair Rachel, were so 
happy 
But to look forth. — See, fortune doth me grace 
Enter Rachel. 

Before I can demand. — How now, love! 
Where is your father ? 

Rack. Gone abroad, my lord. 

Pau. That's well. 

Rack. Ay, but I fear he'll presently return. 
Are you now going, my most honoured lord ? 



22 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

Pate. Ay, my sweet Rachel. 

Ang. Before God, she is a sweet wench. 

Pau. Rachel, I hope I shall not need to urge 
The sacred purity of our affects, 
As if it hung in trial or suspense ; 
Since in our hearts and by our mutual vows 
It is confirm'd and seal'd in sight of heaven. 
Nay, do not weep ; why start you ? fear not, love ! 
Your father cannot be return'd so soon. 
I prithee do not look so heavily; 
Thou shalt want nothing. 

Rack. No ! Is your presence nothing ? 
I shall want that, and wanting that, want all ; 
For that is all to me. 

Pau. Content thee, sweet ! 
I have made choice here of a constant friend, 
This gentleman ; one on whose zealous love 
I do repose more than on all the world, 
Thy beauteous self excepted ; and to him 
Have I committed my dear care of thee, 
As to my genius or my other soul. 
Receive him, gentle love ! and what defects 
My absence proves, his presence shall supply. 
The time is envious of our longer stay. 
Farewell, dear Rachel ! 

Rack. Most dear lord, adieu ! 
Heaven and honour crown your deeds and you. 

\Exit. 

Pau. Faith, tell me, Angelo, how dost thou like 

her? 
Ang. Troth, well, my lord ; but shall I speak 

my mind ? 
Pau. I prithee do. 

Ang. She is deriv'd too meanly to be wife 
To such a noble person, in my judgment. 

Pau. Nay, then thy judgment is too mean, I see: 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 23 

Didst thou ne'er read, in difference of good, 
'Tis more to shine in virtue than in blood. 

Ang. Come, you are so sententious, my lord. 

Enter Jaques. 

Pau. Here comes her father. — How dost thou, 

good Jaques ? 
Ang. God save thee, Jaques ! 
Jaq. What should this mean? — Rachel! open 
the door. I Exit. 

Ang. 'Sblood, how the poor slave looks, as 
though 
He had been haunted by the spirit Lar, 
Or seen the ghost of some great Satrapas 
In an unsavoury sheet. 

Pau. I muse he spake not ; 
Belike he was amaz'd, coming so suddenly 
And unprepar'd. — Well, let us go. 



Actus Secundi — Scczna Prima. 

Enter Jaques solus. 

Jaq. So now enough, my heart, beat now no 
more, 
At least for this affright. What a cold sweat 
Flow'd on my brows and over all my bosom ! 
Had I not reason ! to behold my door 
Beset with unthrifts, and myself abroad ? 
Why Jaques ! was there nothing in the house 
Worth a continual eye, a vigilant thought ? 
Whose head should never nod nor eyes once 

wink ? 
Look on my coat, my thoughts, worn quite thread- 
bare, 
That time could never cover with a nap, 
And by it learn, never with naps of sleep 
To smother your conceits of that you keep. 
But yet I marvel why these gallant youths 
Spoke me so fair, and I esteem'd a beggar! 
The end of flattery is gain or lechery : 
If they seek gain of me, they think me rich ; 
But that they do not: for their other object, 
'Tis in my handsome daughter, if it be : 
And, by your leave, her handsomeness may tell 

them 
My beggary counterfeits, and that her neatness 
Flows from some store of wealth, that breaks my 

coffers 
With this same engine, love to mine own breed ; 
But this is answered : ' Beggars will keep fine 
Their daughters, being fair, though themselves 

pine.' 
Well, then, it is for her: ay, 'tis sure for her: 

24 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 25 

And I make her so brisk for some of them. 
That I might live alone once with my gold ! 
O, 'tis a sweet companion, kind and true ; 
A man may trust it when his father cheats him, 
Brother, or friend, or wife. O, wondrous pelf! 
"That which makes all men false, is true itself." — 
But now this maid is but suppos'd my daughter ; 
For I being steward to a lord of France, 
Of great estate and wealth, called Lord Chamont, 
He gone into the wars, I stole his treasure 
(But hear not, anything), I stole his treasure, 
And this his daughter, being two years old, 
Because it lov'd me so, that it would leave 
The nurse herself to come into mine arms ; 
And had I left it, it would sure have died. 
Now herein I was kind and had a conscience : 
And since her lady-mother, that did die 
In child-bed of her, loved me passing well ; 
It may be nature fashion'd this affection 
Both in the child and her: but he's ill-bred 
That ransacks tombs and doth deface the dead. 
I'll therefore say no more; suppose the rest. 
Here have I chang'd my form, my name and hers, 
And live obscurely, to enjoy more safe 
My dearest treasure. But I must abroad. — 

Rachel ! 

Enter Rachel. 

Rack. What is your pleasure, sir ? 

Jag. Rachel, I must abroad. 
Lock thyself in, but yet take out the key, 
That whosoever peeps in at the keyhole 
May yet imagine there is none at home. 

Rack. I will, sir. 

Jaq. But hark thee, Rachel ; say a thief should 
come 
And miss the key, he would resolve indeed 



26 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

None were at home, and so break in the rather: 
Ope the door, Rachel ; set it open, daughter ; 
But sit in it thyself, and talk aloud, 
As if there were some more in th' house with thee : 
Put out the fire, kill the chimney's heart, 
That it may breathe no more than a dead man ; 
The more we spare, my child, the more we gain. 

[Exeunt. 

SC^ENE 2. 
E?iter Christophero, Juniper, and Onion. 

Chris. What says my fellow Onion ? come on. 

Oni. All of a house, sir, but no fellows; you 
are my lord's steward : but, I pray you, what think 
you of love, sir ? 

Chris. Of love, Onion ? why it is a very hon- 
ourable humour. 

Oni. Nay, if it be but worshipful, I care not. 

J tin. Go to, it 's honourable ; check not at the 
conceit of the gentleman. 

Oni. But, in truth, sir, you shall do well to 
think well of love ; for it thinks well of you, in 
me, I assure you. 

Chris. Gramercy, fellow Onion ; I do think 
well thou art in love ; art thou ? 

Oni. Partly, sir ; but I am ashamed to say 
wholly. 

Chri. Well, I will further it in thee to any hon- 
est woman, or maiden, the best I can. 

Jun. Why, now you come near him, sir ; he 
doth vail, he doth remunerate, he doth chew the 
cud in the kindness of an honest imperfection to 
your worship. 

Chris. But who is it thou lovest, fellow Onion ? 

Oni. Marry, a poor man's daughter ; but none 
of the honestest, I hope. 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 27 

Chris. Why, wouldst thou not have her honest? 

Oni. O no, for then I am sure she would not 
have me. 'Tis Rachel de Prie. 

Chris. Why, she hath the name of a very vir- 
tuous maiden. 

Jun. So she is, sir ; but the fellow talks in quid- 
dits, he. 

Chris. What wouldst thou have me do in the 
matter ? 

Oni. Do nothing, sir, I pray you, but speak forme. 

Chris. In what manner ? 

Oni. My fellow Juniper can tell you, sir. 

Jun. Why as thus, sir. Your worship may 
commend him for a fellow fit for consanguinity, 
and that he shaketh with desire, or so. 

Chris. That were not so good, methinks. 

Jun. No, sir ! why so, sir ? What if you should 
say to her, Corroborate thyself, sweet soul, divine 
Mumps, pretty Pastorella ! lookest thou so sweet 
and bounteous ? comfort my friend here. 

Chris. Well, I perceive you wish I should say 
something may do him grace and further his 
desires ; and that, be sure, I will. 

Oni. I thank you, sir ; God save your life, I 
pray God, sir. 

Jun. Your worship is too good to live long : 
you'll contaminate me no service. 

Chris. Command, thou wouldest say ; no, good 
Juniper. 

Jun. Health and wealth, sir. 

[_Exeu?it Onion and Juniper. 

Chris. This wench will I solicit for myself, 
Making my lord and master privy to it ; 
And if he second me with his consent, 
I will proceed, as having long ere this 
Thought her a worthy choice to make my wife. 

[Exit 



28 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

SC^ENE 3. 
Enter Aurelia and Phoenixella. 

Aur. Room for a case of matrons coloured 
black. 
How motherly my mother's death hath made us! 
I would I had some girls now to bring up. 
O, I could make a wench so virtuous, 
She should say grace to every bit of meat, 
And gape no wider than a wafer's thickness ; 
And she should make French court'sies, so, most 

low, 
That every touch should turn her over backward. 

Phcen. Sister, these words become not your 
attire, 
Nor your estate ; our virtuous mother's death 
Should print more deep effects of sorrow in us, 
Than may be worn out in so little time. 

Aur. Sister, i' faith you take too much tobacco; 
It makes you black within as y'are without. 
What, true-stitch, sister ! both your sides alike ! 
Be of a slighter work ; for of my word, 
You shall be sold as dear, or rather dearer. 
Will you be bound to customs and to rites ? 
Shed profitable tears, weep for advantage, 
Or else do all things as you are inclin'd : 
Eat when your stomach serves, saith the physician, 
Not at eleven and six ! So if your humour 
Be now affected with this heaviness, 
Give it the reins, and spare not, as I do 
In this my pleasurable appetite. 
It is precisianism to alter that 
With austere judgment, that is given by nature. 
I wept, you saw, too, when my mother died ; 
For then I found it easier to do so, 
And fitter with my mood than not to weep : 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 29 

But now 'tis otherwise ; another time 

Perhaps I shall have such deep thoughts of her, 

That I shall weep afresh some twelvemonth hence ; 

And I will weep, if I be so dispos'd, 

And put on black as grimly then as now. 

Let the mind go still with the body's stature ; 

Judgment is fit for judges; give me nature. 

Sc^ne 4. 

E?iter Aurelia, Phoenixella, Francisco Colonnia, and 
Angelo. 

Fran. See, Signior Angelo, here are the ladies ; 
Go you and comfort one, I'll to the other. 

Ang. Therefore I come, sir; I'll to the eldest. 
God save you, ladies ! these sad moods of yours, 
That make you choose these solitary walks, 
Are hurtful for your beauties. 

Aur. If we had them. 

Ang. Come, that condition might be for your 
hearts, 
When you protest faith, since we cannot see them : 
But this same heart of beauty, your sweet face, 
Is in mine eye still. 

Atir. O, you cut my heart 
With your sharp eye. 

Ang. Nay, lady, that's not so, 
Your heart's too hard. 

Aur. My beauty's heart ? 

Ang. O no. 
I mean that regent of affection, madam. 
That tramples on all love with such contempt 
In this fair breast. 

Aur. No more, your drift is savour'd ; 
I had rather seem hard-hearted — 

Ang. Than hard-favour'd ; 
Is that your meaning, lady ? 



3o THE CASE IS ALTERED 

Aur. Go to, sir ; 
Your wits are fresh, I know, they need no spur. 

Ang. And therefore you will ride them. 

Aur. Say I do, 
They will not tire, I hope. 

Ang. No, not with you. 
Hark you, sweet lady. [Walks aside with Aur. 

Fran. 'Tis much pity, madam, 
You should have any reason to retain 
This sign of grief, much less the thing design'd. 

Phcen. Griefs are more fit for ladies than their 
pleasures. 

Fran. That is for such as follow nought but 
pleasures. 
But you that temper them so well with virtues, 
Using your griefs so it would prove them pleasures ; 
And you would seem, in cause of griefs and 

pleasures, 
Equally pleasant. 

Phcen. Sir, so I do now. 
It is the excess of either that I strive 
So much to shun, in all my prov'd endeavours, 
Although, perhaps, unto a general eye 
I may appear most wedded to my griefs ; 
Yet doth my mind forsake no taste of pleasure, 
I mean that happy pleasure of the soul, 
Divine and sacred contemplation 
Of that eternal and most glorious bliss, 
Proposed as the crown unto our souls. 

Fran. I will be silent ; yet that I may serve 
But as a decade in the art of memory, 
To put you still in mind of your own virtues, 
When your too serious thoughts make you too sad, 
Accept me for your servant, honoured lady. 

Phcen. Those ceremonies are too common, sig- 
nior Francis, 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 31 

For your uncommon gravity and judgment, 
And fits them only that are nought but ceremony. 
Ang. Come, I will not sue stalely to be your 
servant, 
But, a new term, will you be my refuge ? 

[Comes fonvard with Aur. 

Aur. Your refuge ! why, sir ? 

Ang. That I might fly to you when all else 
fail me. 

Aur. And you be good at flying, be my plover. 

Ang. Nay, take away the P. 

Aur. Tut, then you cannot fly. 

Ang. I'll warrant you : I'll borrow Cupid's 
wings. 

Aur. Mass, then I fear me you'll do strange 
things. 
I pray you blame me not if I suspect you ; 
Your own confession simply doth detect you. 
Nay, and you be so great in Cupid's books, 
'Twill make me jealous. You can with your looks, 
I warrant you, inflame a woman's heart, 
And at your pleasure take Love's golden dart, 
And wound the breast of any virtuous maid. 
Would I were hence ! good faith, I am afraid 
You can constrain one, ere they be aware, 
To run mad for your love. 

Ang. O, this is rare ! 

Sc^NE 6 [5]. 

Aurelio, Phcenixella, Francisco, Angelo, and 
Count Ferneze. 

Count F. Close with my daughters, gentlemen ! 
well done. 
'Tis like yourselves : nay, lusty Angelo, 
Let not my presence make you baulk your sport; 



32 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

I will not break a minute of discourse 
'Twixt you and one of your fair mistresses. 

Ang. One of my mistresses ! why thinks your 
lordship I have so many ? 

Count F. Many ! no, Angelo. 
I do not think thou'st many ; some fourteen 
I hear thou hast, even of our worthiest dames 
Of any note in Milan. 

Ang. Nay, good my lord, fourteen ! it is not so. 

Count F. By the mass, that is't ; here are their 
names to shew. 
Fourteen or fifteen t'one. Good Angelo, 
You need not be asham'd of any of them. 
They are gallants all. 

Ang. 'Sblood ! you are such a lord. [Exit. 

Count F. Nay, stay, sweet Angelo, I am dis- 
posed 
A little to be pleasant past my custom — 
He's gone, he's gone ! I have disgrac'd him 

shrewdly — 
Daughters, take heed of him, he's a wild youth ; 
Look what he says to you, believe him not ; 
He will swear love to every one he sees. 
Francisco, give them counsel, good Francisco ; 
I dare trust thee with both, but him with neither. 

Fran. Your lordship yet may trust both them 
with him. 

Count F. Well, go your ways, away ! — 

[Exeunt Aur. Phcen. and Francisco. 

Sc^NE 7 [6]. 
Count Ferneze and Christophero. 

How now, Christophero ! What news with you ? 
Chris. I have an humble suit to your good 
lordship. 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 33 

Count F. A suit, Christophero ! what suit, I 
prithee ? 

Chris. I would crave pardon at your lordship's 
hands, 
If it seem vain or simple in your sight. 

Count F. I'll pardon all simplicity, Chris- 
tophero ; 
What is thy suit ? 

Chris. Perhaps, being now so old a bachelor, 
I shall seem half unwise to bend myself 
In strict affection to a poor young maid. 

Count F. What, is it touching love, Christophero ? 
Art thou dispos'd to marry ? why, 'tis well. 

Chris. Ay, but your lordship may imagine now, 
That I, being steward of your honour's house, 
If I be married once, will more regard 
The maintenance of my wife, and of my charge, 
Than the due discharge of my place and office. 

Count F. No, no, Christophero, I know thee 
honest. 

Chris. Good faith, my lord, your honour may 
suspect it ; 
But — 

Count F. Then I should wrong thee ; thou hast 
ever been 
Honest and true ; and will be still I know. 

Chris. Ay, but this marriage alters many men, 
And you may fear it will do me, my lord ; 
But ere it do so I will undergo 
Ten thousand several deaths. 

Count F. I know it, man, 
Who wouldst thou have, I prithee ? 

Chris. Rachel de Prie, 
If your good lordship grant me your consent. 

Count F. Rachel de Prie ! what, the poor beg- 
gar's daughter ? 



34 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

She's a right handsome maid, how poor soever, 
And thou hast my consent with all my heart. 

Chris. I humbly thank your honour; I'll now ask 

Her father. [Exit. 

Count F. Do so, Christophero ; thou shalt do 

well. 
'Tis strange, she being so poor, he should affect 

her ! 
But this is more strange, that myself should love 

her. 
I spied her lately at her father's door, 
And if I did not see in her sweet face 
Gentry and nobleness, ne'er trust me more ; 
But this persuasion fancy wrought in me, 
That fancy being created with her looks ; 
For where love is, he thinks his basest object 
Gentle and noble : I am far in love, 
And shall be forc'd to wrong my honest steward, 
For I must sue and seek her for myself, 
How much my duty to my late dead wife, 
And my own dear renown soe'er it sways : 
I'll to her father straight; "love hates delays." 

[Exit. 

Scene 8 [7]. 

Enter Onion, Juniper, Valentine, Sebastian, Balthasar, 
Martino. 

Oni. Come on, i' faith, let's to some exercise 
or other, my hearts. — Fetch the hilts. 

# [Exit Martino. 

— Fellow Juniper, wilt thou play? 

Jun. I cannot resolve you ; 'tis as I am fitted 
with the ingenuity, quantity, or quality of the 
cudgel. 

Val. How dost thou bastinado the poor cudgel 
with terms ! 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 35 

Jun. O ingle, I have the phrases, man, and the 
anagrams, and the epitaphs fitting the mystery of 
the noble science. 

Oni. I'll be hanged and he were not misbegot- 
ten of some fencer. 

Seb. Sirrah Valentine, you can resolve me now, 
have they their masters of defence in other coun- 
tries as we have here in Italy? 

Val. O Lord, ay ; especially they in Utopia : 
there they perform their prizes and challenges 
with as great ceremony as the Italian, or any 
nation else. 

Bal. Indeed ! how is the manner of it, for God's 
love, good Valentine ? 

Jun. Ingle, I prithee make recourse unto us ; 
we are thy friends and familiars, sweet ingle. 

Val. Why thus, sir — 

Oni. God a mercy, good Valentine ; nay, go on. 

Jun. Silenthim, bonus socius Onzonus, good fel- 
low Onion, be not so ingenious and turbulent. So, 
sir ; and how ? how, sweet ingle ? 

Val. Marry, first they are brought to the public 
theatre. 

Jun. What, ha' they theatres there ? 

Val. Theatres ! ay, and plays too, both tragedy 
and comedy, and set forth with as much state as 
can be imagined. 

Jun. God's so, a man is nobody till he has 
travelled. 

Seb. And how are their plays ; as ours are, ex- 
temporal ? 

Val. O no ; all premeditated things, and some 
of them very good, i' faith ; my master used to 
visit them often when he was there. 

Bal. Why, how, are they in a place where any 
man may see them ? 



36 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

Val. Ay, in the common theatres, I tell you. 
But the sport is at a new play, to observe the sway 
and variety of opinion that passeth it. A man 
shall have such a confused mixture of judgment 
poured out in the throng there, as ridiculous as 
laughter itself. One says he likes not the writing, 
another likes not the plot, another not the play- 
ing : and sometimes a fellow that comes not there 
past once in five years, at a parliament time, or so, 
will be as deep mired in censuring as the best, and 
swear by God's foot he would never stir his foot to 
see a hundred such as that is. 

Oni. I must travel to see these things ; I shall 
ne'er think well of myself else. 

Jun. Fellow Onion, I'll bear thy charges, and 
thou wilt but pilgrimize it along with me to the 
land of Utopia. 

Seb. Why, but methinks such rooks as these 
should be ashamed to judge. 

Val. Not a whit ; the rankest stinkard of them 
all will take upon him as peremptory as if he had 
writ himself in artibus magister. 

Seb. And do they stand to a popular censure 
for anything they present ? 

Val. Ay, ever, ever; and the people generally 
are very acceptive and apt to applaud any meri- 
table work ; but there are two sorts of persons that 
most commonly are infectious to a whole auditory. 

Bal. What be they? 

Jun. Ay, come, let's know them. 

Oni. It were good they were noted. 

Val. Marry, one is the rude barbarous crew, a 
people that have no brains, and yet grounded 
judgments; these will hiss anything that mounts 
above their grounded capacities ; but the other 
are worth the observation, i' faith. 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 37 

Omnes. What be they, what be they? 

VaL Faith, a few capricious gallants. 

Jun. Capricious ! stay, that word's for me. 

VaL And they have taken such a habit of dis- 
like in all things that they will approve nothing, 
be it never so conceited or elaborate ; but sit dis- 
persed, making faces and spitting, wagging their 
upright ears, and cry filthy ! filthy ! simply uttering 
their own condition, and using their wryed coun- 
tenances instead of a vice, to turn the good 
aspects of all that shall sit near them from what 
they behold. 

Re-enter Marti no with cudgels. 

Oni. O that's well said. Lay them down; come, 
sirs, who plays ? fellow Juniper, Sebastian, Baltha- 
sar ? somebody take them up, come. 

Jun. Ingle Valentine. 

VaL Not I, sir, I profess it not. 

Jun. Sebastian. 

Seb. Balthasar. 

Bal. Who, I ? 

Oni. Come, but one bout ; I'll give 'em thee, 
i' faith. 

Bal. Why, here's Martino. 

Oni. Foh, he ! alas, he cannot play a whit, man. 

Jun. That's all one; no more could you in statu 
qtw priiis. — Martino, play with him; every man has 
his beginning and conduction. 

Mart. Will you not hurt me, fellow Onion ? 

Oni. Hurt thee ! no ; and I do, put me among 
pot-herbs and chop me to pieces. Come on. 

Jun. By your favour, sweet bullies, give them 

room; back, so! — Martino, do not look so thin 

upon the matter. 

[Martino and Onion play a bout at cudgels. 



3 8 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

Oni. Ha ! well played; fall over to my leg now; 
so, to your guard again ; excellent ! to my head 
now ; make home your blow ; spare not me, make 
it home, good, good again ! [Mart, breaks his head. 

Seb. Why, how now, Peter ! 

Val. God's so, Onion has caught a bruise. 

Jun. Coragio ! be not capricious ! what ! 

Oni. Capricious ! not I; I scorn to be capricious 
for a scratch. Martino must have another bout; 
come. 

Val., Seb., Bal. No, no, play no more, play no 
more. 

Oni. Foh, 'tis nothing, a fillip, a device ; fellow 
Juniper, prithee get me a plantain ; I had rather 
play with one that had skill by half. 

Mart. By my troth, fellow Onion, 'twas against 
my will. 

Oni. Nay, that's not so, 'twas against my head ; 
but come, we'll ha' one bout more. 

Jun. Not a bout, not a stroke. 

Omnes. No more, no more. [Exit Martino. 

Jun. Why, I'll give you demonstration how it 
came : thou open'dst the dagger to falsify over 
with the backsword trick, and he interrupted be- 
fore he could fall to the close. 

Oni. No, no, I know best how it was, better 
than any man here. I felt his play presently; for 
look you, I gathered upon him thus, thus, do you 
see, for the double lock, and took it single on the 
head. 

Val. He says very true, he took it single on 
the head. 

Seb. Come, let's go. 

Re-enter Martino with a cobweb. 
Mart. Here, fellow Onion, here's a cobweb. 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 39 

Oni. How ! a cobweb, Martino ! I will have an- 
other bout with you. 'Swounds, do you first break 
my head, and then give me a plaister in scorn ? 
Come, to it, I will have a bout. 

Mart. God's my witness 

Oni. Tut ! your witness cannot serve. 

Jun. 'Sblood, why what ! thou art not lunatic, 
art thou ? an thou be'st, avoid, Mephostophiles ! 
Say the sign should be in Aries now, as it may be 
for all us, where were your life ? answer me that ? 

Seb. He says well, Onion. 

Val. Ay indeed does he. 

Jun. Come, come, you are a foolish naturalist ; 
go, get a white of an egg and a little flax, and 
close the breach of the head; it is the most condu- 
cible thing that can be. Martino, do not insinuate 
upon your good fortune, but play an honest part, 
and bear away the bucklers. [Exeunt. 



Act. j. — Scczne i. 

Enter Angelo, solus. 

Ang. My young and simple friend, Paulo Fer- 
neze, 
Bound me with mighty, solemn conjurations 
To be true to him in his love to Rachel, 
And to solicit his remembrance still 
In his enforced absence. Much, i' faith ! 
True to my friend in cases of affection ! 
In women's cases ! what a jest it is ! 
How silly he is that imagines it ! 
He is an ass that will keep promise strictly 
In anything that checks his private pleasure, 
Chiefly in love. 'Sblood, am not I a man, 
Have I not eyes that are as free to look, 
And blood to be inflam'd as well as his ? 
And when it is so, shall I not pursue 
Mine own love's longings, but prefer my friend's ? 
Ay, 'tis a good fool, do so ; hang me then. 
Because I swore ? alas, who does not know 
That lovers' perjuries are ridiculous ? 
Have at thee, Rachel ; I'll go court her, sure, 
For now I know her father is abroad — 
Sblood, see, he's here. 

Enter Jaques. 

O what damn'd luck is this ! 
This labour's lost, I must by no means see him. 
Tau, dery, dery. [Exit singing. 

SC/ENE 2. 

Jaq. Mischief and hell ! what is this man ? a 
spirit ? 
Haunts he, my house's ghost, still at my door? — 

40 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 41 

He has been at my door, he has been in, 

In my dear door; pray God my gold be safe ! 

Enter Christophero. 

God's pity, here's another! — Rachel! ho, Rachel! 
Chris. God save you, honest father. 
Jaq. Rachel! God's light, come to me; Rachel! 
Rachel ! [Exit. 

Chris. Now in God's name what ails he ? this 
is strange ! 
He loves his daughter so, I'll lay my life, 
That he's afraid, having been now abroad , 
I come to seek her love unlawfully. 

Re-enter Jaques. 

Jaq. 'Tis safe, 'tis safe, they have not robb'd 
my treasure. 

Chris. Let it not seem offensive to you, sir. 

Jaq. Sir ! God's my life, sir ! sir ! call me sir ! 

Chris. Good father, hear me. 

Jaq. You are most welcome, sir ; 
I meant almost : and would your worship speak, 
Would you abase yourself to speak to me ? 

Chris. 'Tis no abasing, father ; my intent 
Is to do further honour to you, sir, 
Than only speak ; which is, to be your son. 

Jaq. My gold is in his nostrils, he has smelt it ! 
Break breast, break heart, fall on the earth, my 

entrails, 
With this same bursting admiration ! 
He knows my gold, he knows of all my treasure — 
How do you know, sir ? whereby do you guess ? 

Chris. At what, sir ? what is it you mean ? 

Jaq. I ask, 
An't please your gentle worship, how you know — 
I mean, how I should make your worship know 



42 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

That 1 have nothing — 

To give with my poor daughter ? I have nothing : 

The very air, bounteous to every man, 

Is scant to me, sir. 

Chris. I do think, good father, 
You are but poor. 

Jaq. He thinks so ; hark ! but thinks so : 
He thinks not so, he knows of all my treasure. [Exit. 

Chris. Poor man, he is so overjoy' d to hear 
His daughter may be past his hopes bestow'd, 
That betwixt fear and hope, if I mean simply, 
He is thus passionate. 

Re-enter Jaques. 

Jaq. Yet all is safe within : is none without ? 
Nobody breaks my wall ? 

Chris. What say you, father, shall I have your 

daughter ? 
Jaq. I have no dowry to bestow upon her. 
Chris. I do expect none, father. 
Jaq. That is well. 
Then I beseech your worship make no question 
Of that you wish ; 'tis too much favour to me. 
Chris. I'll leave him now to give his passions 
breath, 
Which being settled, I will fetch his daughter ; 
I shall but move too much, to speak now to him. 

[Exit. 
Jaq. So ! he is gone ; would all were dead and 
gone, 
That I might live with my dear gold alone ! 

Sc^ene 3. 
Jaques and Count. 

Count F. Here is the poor old man. 
Jaq. Out o' my soul, another! comes he hither? 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 43 

Count F. Be not dismay' d, old man, I come to 

cheer you. 
Jaq. To me, by heaven ! 
Turn ribs to brass, turn voice into a trumpet, 
To rattle out the battles of my thoughts ; 
One comes to hold me talk, while t'other robs me. 

[Exit. 
Count F. He has forgot me, sure ; what should 
this mean ? 
He fears authority and my want of wife 
Will take his daughter from him to defame her : 
He that hath nought on earth but one poor daughter, 
May take this ecstasy of care to keep her. 

Re-e?iter Jaques. 

Jaq. And yet 'tis safe : they mean not to use 
force, 
But fawning cunning. I shall easily know 
By his next question, if he think me rich. [Aside. 
Whom see I ? my good lord ? 

Count. F. Stand up, good father ! 
I call thee not [good] father for thy age, 
But that I gladly wish to be thy son, 
In honoured marriage with thy beauteous daughter. 

Jaq. O, so, so, so, so, so ! this is for gold. 
Now it is sure this is my daughter's neatness 
Makes them believe me rich. — No, my good lord. 
I'll tell you all, how my poor hapless daughter 
Got that attire she wears from top to toe. 

Count. F. Why, father, this is nothing. 

Jaq. O yes, good my lord. 

Count. F. Indeed it is not. 

Jaq. Nay, sweet lord, pardon me ; do not dis- 
semble ; 
Hear your poor beadsman speak : 'tis requisite 
That I, so huge a beggar, make account 



44 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

Of things that pass my calling. She was born 
To enjoy nothing underneath the sun ; 
But that, if she had more than other beggars, 
She should be envied. I will tell you then 
How she had all she wears. Her warm shoes, 

God wot, 
A kind maid gave her, seeing her go barefoot 
In a cold frosty morning ; God requite her ! 
Her homely stockings — 

Count. F. Father, I'll hear no more, thou mov- 

est too much 
With thy too curious answer for thy daughter, 
That doth deserve a thousand times as much. 
I'll be thy son-in-law, and she shall wear 
The attire of countesses. 
Jag. O, good my lord, 
Mock not the poor ; remembers not your lordship 
That poverty is the precious gift of God, 
As well as riches ? tread upon me rather [Kneels. 
Than mock my poorness. 
Count. F. Rise, I say : 
When I mock poorness, then heavens make me 

poor. [Exit Jaques. 

Sc^NE 4. 
Nuntius and Count. 

Nun. See, here's the Count Ferneze ; I will tell 
him 
The hapless accident of his brave son, 
That he may seek the sooner to redeem him. — 
God save your lordship ! 

Count F. You are right welcome, sir. 

JVun. I would I brought such news as might 

deserve it. 
Count. F. What ! bring you me ill news ? 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 45 

Nun. 'Tis ill, my lord ; 
Yet such as usual chance of war affords, 
And for which all men are prepar'd that use it, 
And those that use it not but in their friends, 
Or in their children. 

Count. F. Ill news of my son, 
My dear and only son, I'll lay my soul ! 
Ay me accurs'd ! thought of his death doth wound 

me. 
And the report of it will kill me quite. 

Nun. 'Tis not so ill, my lord. 

Count. F. How then ? 

Nun. He's taken prisoner, 
And that is all. 

Count F. That is enough, enough ; 
I set my thoughts on love, on servile love, 
Forget my virtuous wife, feel not the dangers, 
The bands and wounds of mine own flesh and 

blood, 
And therein am a madman ; therein plagu'd 
With the most just affliction under heaven. 
Is Maximilian taken prisoner too ? 

Nun. No, good my lord ; he is return'd with 
prisoners. 

Count F. Is't possible ! can Maximilian 
Return and view my face without my son, 
For whom he swore such care as for himself ? 

Nun. My lord, no care can change the events 
of war. 

Count F. O, in what tempests do my fortunes 
sail ! 
Still wrack'd with winds more foul and contrary 
Than any northern gust, or southern flaw, 
That ever yet enforc'd the sea to gape, 
And swallow the poor merchant's traffic up. 
First in Vicenza lost I my first son, 



46 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

Next here in Milan my most dear-lov'd lady, 

And now my Paulo prisoner to the French ; 

Which last being printed with my other griefs, 

Doth make so huge a volume, that my breast 

Cannot contain them. But this is my love ! 

I must make love to Rachel ! Heaven hath thrown 

This vengeance on me most deservedly, 

Were it for naught but wronging of my steward. 

Nun. My lord, since only money may redress 
The worst of this misfortune, be not griev'd ; 
Prepare his ransom, and your noble son 
Shall greet your cheered eyes with the more hon- 
our. 
Count F. I will prepare his ransom ; gracious 
heaven 
Grant his imprisonment may be his worst, 
Honoured and soldier-like imprisonment, 
And that he be not manacled and made 
A drudge to his proud foe ! And here I vow, 
Never to dream of seemless amorous toys, 
Nor aim at any other joy on earth 
But the fruition of my only son. ^Exeunt. 

Sc^ne 5. 
Enter Jaques with his gold, and a scuttle full of rubbish. 

Jaq. He's gone: I knew it ; this is our hot lover. 
I will believe them, I ! They may come in 
Like simple wooers, and be arrant thieves, 
And I not know them ! 'Tis not to be told 
What servile villanies men will do for gold. — 
O it began to have a huge strong smell, 
With lying so long together in a place ; 
I'll give it vent, it shall have shift enough ; 
And if the devil, that envies all goodness, 
Have told them of my gold, and where 1 kept it. 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 47 

I'll set his burning nose once more a work, 
To smell where I remov'd it. Here it is; 
I'll hide and cover it with this mere trash. 

[Digs a hole in the ground. 
Who will suppose that such a precious nest 
Is crown'd with such a villain heap of earth ? 
In, my dear life ! sleep sweetly, my dear child ! 
"Scarce lawfully begotten, but yet gotten, 
And that's enough." Rot all hands that come near 

thee, 
Except mine own ! burn out all eyes that see thee, 
Except mine own ! all thoughts of thee be poison 
To their enamour'd hearts, except mine own ! 
I'll take no leave, sweet prince, great emperor, 
But see thee every minute : king of kings, 
I'll not be rude to thee and turn my back 
In going from thee, but go backward out, 
With my face toward thee, with humble courtesies. 
None is within, none overlooks my wall ; 
To have gold, and to have it safe, is all. [Exit. 



Actus j [4]. — Sccene I. 1 

Enter Maximilian with Soldiers, Chamont, Camillo, and 

Pacue. 

Max. Lord Chamont, and your valiant friend 
there, L cannot say welcome to Milan ; your 
thoughts and that word are not musical ; but I 
can say, you are come to Milan. 

Pac. Mort dieu ! 

Cha. Garcon !^ 

Max. Gentlemen (I would call an emperor so), 
you are now my prisoners; I am sorry: marry, this, 
spit in the face of your fortunes, for your usage 
shall be honourable. 

Cam. We know it, Signior Maximilian ; 
The fame of all your actions sounds naught else 
But perfect honour from her swelling cheeks. 

Max. It shall do so still, I assure you, and I 
will give you reason : there is in this last action, 
you know, a noble gentleman of our party, and a 
right valiant, semblably prisoner to your general, 
as your honoured self is to me ; for whose safety 
this tongue hath given warrant to his honourable 
father, the Count Ferneze. You conceive me ? 

Cam. Ay, signior. 

Max. Well then, L must tell you your ransoms 
be to redeem him. What think you ? your answer. 

Cam. Marry, with my lord's leave here, I say, 
signior: 

This free and ample offer you have made 
Agrees well with your honour, but not ours ; 
For I think not but Chamont is as well born 

1 So in original edition of 1609, which from this point onwards has no 
further indication of act or scene. 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 49 

As is Ferneze ; then, if I mistake not, 

He scorns to have his worth so underprised, 

That it should need an adjunct in exchange 

Of any equal fortune. Noble signior, 

I am a soldier, and L love Chamont ; 

Ere I would bruise his estimation 

With the least ruin of mine own respect 

In this vild kind, these legs should rot with irons, 

This body pine in prison, till the flesh 

Dropt from my bones in flakes, like wither'd 

leaves 
In heart of autumn from a stubborn oak. 

Max. Monsieur Gasper (I take it so is your 
name), misprise me not ; I will trample on the 
heart, on the soul of him that shall say I will 
wrong you : what I purpose you cannot now 
know; but you shall know, and, doubt not, to your 
contentment. — Lord Chamont, I will leave you 
whilst I go in and present myself to the honour- 
able count ; till my regression, so please you, your 
noble feet may measure this private, pleasant, and 
most princely walk. — Soldiers, regard them and 
respect them. [Exit. 

Pac. O ver bon ! excellenta gull, he taka my 
Lord Chamont for Monsieur Gaspra and Mon- 
sieur Gaspra for my Lord Chamont. O dis be 
brave for make a me laugha, ha, ha, ha ! O, my 
heart tickla. [Aside. 

Cam. Ay, but your lordship knows not what 
hard fate 
Might have pursued us ; therefor, howsoe'er, 
The changing of our names was necessary, 
And we must now be careful to maintain 
This error strongly, which our own device 
Hath thrust into their ignorant conceits ; 
For should we (on the taste of this good fortune) 



50 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

Appear ourselves, 'twould both create in them 
A kind of jealousy, and perchance invert 
Those honourable courses they intend. 

Cha. True, my dear Gasper ; but this hang-by 
here 
Will at one time or other, on my soul, 
Discover us. A secret in his mouth 
Is like a wild bird put into a cage, 
Whose door no sooner opens but 'tis out. — 
But, sirrah, if I may but know thou utter' st it — 

Pac. Uttera vat, monsieur ? 

Cha. That he is Gasper and I true Chamont. 

Pac. O pardonnez moy, fore my tongue shall 
put out de secreta, shall breed de cankra in my 
mouth. 

Cam. Speak not so loud, Pacue. 

Pac. Foh ! you shall not hear, fool, for all your 
long ear. Regardez, monsieur : you be Chamont, 
Chamont be Gaspra. 

Re-enter Maximilian with Count Ferneze, Francisco, 
Aurelia, Phcenixella, and Finio. 

Cha. Peace, here comes Maximilian. 

Cam. O, belike 
That is the Count Ferneze, that old man. 

Cha. Are those his daughters, trow ? 

Cam. Ay, sure, 1 think they are. 

Cha. Fore God, the taller is a gallant lady. 

Cam. So are they both, believe me. 

Max. True, my honourable lord, that Chamont 
was the father of this man. 

Count F. O that may be, for when I lost my 
son, 
This was but young, it seems. 

Fran. Faith, had Camillo lived, 
He had been much about his years, my lord. 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 51 

Count F. He had indeed ! Well, speak no 
more of him. 

Max. Signior, perceive you the error ? 'twas 
no good office in us to stretch the remembrance 
of so dear a loss. Count Ferneze, let summer sit 
in your eye : look cheerfully, sweet count ; will 
you do me the honour to confine this noble spirit 
within the circle of your arms ? 

Count F. Honoured Chamont, reach me your 
valiant hand ; 
I could have wished some happier accident 
Had made the way unto this mutual knowledge, 
Which either of us now must take of other ; 
But sure it is the pleasure of our fates, 
That we should thus be rack'd on fortune's wheel ; 
Let us prepare with steeled patience 
To tread on torment, and with minds confirm'd, 
Welcome the worst of envy. 

Max. Noble lord, 'tis thus. I have here, in 
mine honour, set this gentleman free without ran- 
som : he is now himself; his valor hath deserved 
it, in the eye of my judgment. — Monsieur Gasper, 
you are dear to me : fortuna non niutat genus. 
But to the main; — if it may square with your 
lordship's liking and his love, I could desire that 
he were now instantly employed to your noble 
general in the exchange of Ferneze for yourself ; 
it is the business that requires the tender hand of a 
friend. 

Count F. Ay, and it would be with more speed 
effected, 
If he would undertake it. 

Max. True, my lord. — Monsieur Gasper, how 
stand you affected to this motion ? 

Cha. My duty must attend his lordship's will. 

Max, What says the Lord Chamont ? 



52 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

Cam. My will doth then approve what these 
have urged. 

Max. Why, there is good harmony, good music 
in this. Monsieur Gasper, you shall protract no 
time, only I will give you a bowl of rich wine to 
the health of your general, another to the success 
of your journey, and a third to the love of my 
sword. Pass. [Exeunt all but Aur. and Phoenix. 

Aur. Why, how now, sister! in a motley muse? 
Go to, there's somewhat in the wind, I see. 
Faith, this brown study suits not with your black ; 
Your habit and your thoughts are of two colours. 

Pkcen. Good faith, methinks that this young 
Lord Chamont. 
Favors my mother, sister ; does he not ? 

Aur. A motherly conceit ; O blind excuse, 
Blinder than Love himself ! Well, sister, well ; 
Cupid hath ta'en his stand in both your eyes, 
The case is altered. 

Pkcen. And what of that ? 

Aur. Nay, nothing: — But a saint! 
Another Bridget ! one that for a face 
Would put down Vesta, in whose looks doth swim 
The very sweetest cream of modesty, 
You to turn tippet ! fie, fie ! Will you give 
A packing penny to virginity ? 
I thought you'd dwell so long in Cyprus isle, 
You'd worship Madam Venus at the length. 
But come, the strongest fall, and why not you ? 
Nay, do not frown. 

Pkcen. Go, go, you fool. Adieu ! [Exit. 

Aur. Well, I may jest or so ; but Cupid knows 
My taking is as bad or worse than hers. 
O, Monsieur Gasper, if thou be'st a man, 
Be not afraid to court me ; do but speak, 
Challenge thy right, and wear it ; for I swear 
Till thou arriv'dst, ne'er came affection here. [Exit. 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 53 

[Scene 2.] 
Enter Pacue a?id Finio. 

Fin. Come on, my sweet finical Pacue, the very 
prime of pages, here's an excellent place for us to 
practice in ; nobody sees us here ; come, let's to it. 
Enter Onion. 

Pac. Contenta ; Regardez vous le premier. 

Oni. Sirrah Finio. 

Pac. Mort dieu, le pesant ! 

Oni. Didst thou see Valentine ? 

Fin. Valentine ! no. 

Oni. No! 

Fin. No. Sirrah Onion, whither goest ! 

Oni. O, I am vext ; he that would trust any of 
these lying travellers. — 

Fin. I prithee stay, good Onion. 

Pac. Monsieur Onion, venez ca, come hidera, 
je vous prie. By gar, me ha see two, tree, four 
hundra tousand of your cousan hang. Lend me 
your hand, shall pray for know you bettra. 

Oni. I thank you, good Signior Parlez-vous. 
O that I were in another world, in the Ingies, or 
somewhere that 1 might have room to laugh ! 

Pac. Ah, oui, fort bien! stand! you bedere — now 
me come ; 
Bon jour, monsieur. 

Fin. Good morrow, good signior. 

Pac. By gar, be much glad for see you. 

Fin. I return you most kind thanks, sir. 

Oni. How, how ! 'sblood, this is rare. 

Pac. Nay, shall make you say rare, by and by; 
regardez the shoulder, Monsieur Finio. 

Fin. Signior Pacue. 

Pac. Dieu vous garde, monsieur. 

Fin. God save you, sweet signior. 



54 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

Pac. Monsieur Onion, is not fort bien ? 

Oni. Bean, quoth he ! would I were in debt of 
a pottle of beans, I could do as much ! 

Fin. Welcome, signior : — what's next? 

Pac. O here ; voyez, de grand admiration, as 
should meet perchance Monsieur Finio. 

Fin. Monsieur Pacue. 

Pac. By gar, who think we shall meete here ? 

Fin. By this hand, 1 am not a little proud of it, 
sir. 

Oni. This trick is only for the chamber, it can- 
not be cleanly done abroad. 

Pac. Well, wat say you for dis, den, monsieur ? 

Fin. Nay, pray, sir. 

Pac. Par ma foy, vous [voila] bien encontre ! 

Fin. What do you mean, sir ? let your glove 
alone. 

Pac. Comment se porte la sante ? 

Fin. Faith, exceeding well, sir. 

Pac. Trot, be mush joy for hear. 

Fin, And how is't with you, sweet Signior 
Pacue ? 

Pac. Fait, comme vous voyez. 

Oni. Young gentlemen, spirits of blood, if ever 
you'll taste of a sweet piece of mutton, do Onion 
a good turn now. 

Pac. Que, que ? parlez, monsieur, vat is't ? 

Oni. Faith, teach me one of these tricks. 

Pac. O me shall do presently; stand you dere, 
you signior dere, myself is here ; so, fort bien ? 
Now I parle to Monsieur Onion, Onion pratla to 
you, you speaka to me, so : and as you parlez, 
change the bonet. — Monsieur Onion ! 

Oni. Monsieur Finio ! 

Fin. Monsieur Pacue ! 

Pac. Pray be covera. 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 55 

Oni. Nay I beseech you, sir. 

Fin. What do you mean ? 

Pac. Pardonne moi, shall be so. 

Oni. O God, sir! 

Fin. Not I, in good faith, sir. 

Pac. By gar, you must. 

Oni. It shall be yours. 

Fin. Nay, then you wrong me. 

Oni. Well, and ever I come to be great- 



Pac. You be big enough for de Onion already. 

Oni. I mean a great man. 

Fin. Then thou'dst be a monster. 

Oni. Well, God knows not what fortune may 
do, command me, use me from the soul to the 
crown, and the crown to the soul ; meaning not 
only from the crown of the head, and the sole of 
the foot, but also the foot of the mind and the 
crowns of the purse. I cannot stay now, young 

gentlemen; but time was, time is, and time 

shall be. {Exeunt. 

[Scene 3.] 
E?iter Chamont and Camillo. 

Cha. Sweet Gasper, I am sorry we must part, 
But strong necessity enforceth it. 
Let not the time seem long unto my friend 
Till my return ; for, by our love I swear, 
(The sacred sphere wherein our souls are knit), 
I will endeavor to effect this business 
With all industrious care and happy speed. 

Cam. My lord, these circumstances would come 
well 
To one less capable of your desert 
Than I ; in whom your merit is confirmed 
With such authentical and grounded proofs. 

Cha. Well, I will use no more. Gasper, adieu. 



56 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

Cam. Farewell, my honoured lord. 

Cha. Com mend me to the lady, my good Gasper. 

Cam. I had remember'd that, had not you 
urg'd it. 

Cha. Once more adieu, sweet Gasper. 

Cam. My good lord. [Exit. 

Cha. Thy virtues are more precious than thy 
name ; 
Kind gentleman, I would not sell thy love 
For all the earthly objects that mine eyes 
Have ever tasted. Sure thou art nobly born, 
However fortune hath obscur'd thy birth ; 
For native honour sparkles in thine eyes. 
How may I bless the time wherein Chamont, 
My honoured father, did surprise Vicenza, 
Where this my friend (known by no name) was found, 
Being then a child, and scarce of power to speak, 
To whom my father gave this name of Gasper, 
And as his own respected him to death ; 
Since when we two have shar'd our mutual fortunes 
With equal spirits, and, but death's rude hand, 
No violence shall dissolve this sacred band. [Exit. 

[Scene 4.] 
Enter Juniper in his shop, singi?ig. To him Onion. 

Oni. Fellow Juniper, no more of thy songs and 
sonnets ; sweet Juniper, no more of thy hymns 
and madrigals ; thou sing'st, but I sigh. 

Jun. What's the matter, Peter, ha? what, in an 
academy still ! still in sable and costly black array, 
ha? 

Oni. Prithee rise, mount ; mount, sweet Juniper; 
for I go down the wind, and yet I puff, for I am vext. 

Jun. Ha, bully, vext ! what, intoxicate ! is thy 
brain in a quintessence, an idea, a metamorphosis, 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 57 

an apology, ha, rogue ? Come, this love feeds 
upon thee, I see by thy cheeks, and drinks healths 
of vermilion tears, I see by thine eyes. 

Oni. I confess Cupid's carouse, he plays super 
negulum with my liquor of life. 

Jttn. Tut, thou art a goose to be Cupid's gull ; 
go to; no more of these contemplations and calcu- 
lations ; mourn not, for Rachel's thine own. 

Oni. For that let the higher powers work ; 
but, sweet Juniper, I am not sad for her, and yet 
for her in a second person, or if not so, yet in a 
third. 

Ju7i. How, second person ! away, away. In the 
crotchets already ! longitude and latitude ! what 
second, what person, ha ? 

Oni. Juniper, I'll bewray myself before thee, 
for thy company is sweet unto me ; but I must 
intreat thy helping hand in the case. 

Jun. Tut, no more of this surquedry; I am 
thine own ad unguem, upsie freeze, pell mell ; 
come, what case, what case ? 

Oni. For the case, it may be any man's case as 
well as mine. Rachel I mean ; but I'll meddle 
with her anon : in the meantime, Valentine is the 
man hath wronged me. 

Jun. How, my ingle wrong thee! is't possible ? 

Oni. Your ingle ! hang him, infidel. Well, and 
if I be not revenged on him, let Peter Onion (by 
the infernal gods) be turned to a leek, or a scallion. 
I spake to him for a ditty for this handkercher. 

Jun. Why, has he not done it ? 
Oni. Done it ? not a verse, by this hand. 

Jun. O in diebus illis ! O preposterous ! well, 
come, be blithe ; the best inditer of them all is 
sometimes dull. Fellow Onion, pardon mine 
ingle ; he is a man has imperfections and declina- 



58 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

tions, as other men have ; his muse sometimes 
cannot curvet, nor prognosticate, and come off as 
it should ; no matter, I'll hammer out a paraphrase 
for thee myself. 

Oni. No, sweet Juniper, no ; danger doth breed 
delay: love makes me choleric; I can bear no 
longer. 

Jun. Not bear what, my mad meridian slave ? 
not bear what ? 

Oni. Cupid's burthen ; 'tis too heavy, too toler- 
able ; and as for the handkercher and the posie, 
I will not trouble thee ; but if thou wilt go with 
me into her father's backside, old Jaques' back- 
side, and speak for me to Rachel, I will not be 
ingratitude : the old man is abroad and all. 

Jun. Art thou sure on't ? 

Oni. As sure as an obligation. 

Jun. Let's away then ; come, we spend time in 
a vain circumference ; trade, I cashier thee till 
to-morrow : fellow Onion, for thy sake I finish 
this workaday. 

Oni. God-a-mercy; and for thy sake I'll at any 
time make a holiday. {Exeunt. 

[Scene 5.] 
Enter Angelo and Rachel. 

Ang. Nay, I prithee, Rachel ; I come to com- 
fort thee, 
Be not so sad. 

Rack. O Signior Angelo, 
No comfort but his presence can remove 
This sadness from my heart. 

Ang. Nay, then you are fond, 
And want that strength of judgment and election 
That should be attendant on your years and form. 
Will you, because your lord is taken prisoner, 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 59 

Blubber and weep, and keep a peevish stir, 

As though you would turn turtle with the news. 

Come, come, be wise. 'Sblood, say your lord 

should die, 
And you go mar your face as you begin, 
What would you do, trow ? who would care for 

you? 
But thus it is, when nature will bestow 
Her gifts on such as know not how to use them ; 
You shall have some, that had they but one quarter 
Of your fair beauty, they would make it shew 
A little otherwise than you do this, 
Or they would see the painter twice an hour; 
And I commend them, I, that can use art 
With such judicial practice. 

Rack. You talk idly; 
If this be your best comfort, keep it still, 
My senses cannot feed on such sour cates. 

Ang. And why, sweetheart ? 

Rack. Nay, leave, good signior. 

Ang. Come, I have sweeter viands yet in store. 

Jun. [within.^\ Ay, in any case. — Mistress 
Rachel ! 

Ang. Rachel ! 

Rack. God's pity, Signior Angelo, I hear my 
father; away, for God's sake. 

Ang. 'Sblood, I am bewitched, I think ; this is 
twice now I have been served thus. [Exit. 

Rack. Pray God he meet him not. [Exit. 

Enter Onion and Juniper. 

Oni. O brave! she's yonder: O terrible! she's 
gone. 

Jun. Yea, so nimble in your dilemmas and your 
hyperboles ! Hey my love! O my love! at the 
first sight, by the mass. 



6o THE CASE IS ALTERED 

Oni. O how she scudded ! O sweet scud, how 
she tripped ! O delicate trip and go ! 

Jun. Come, thou art enamored with the influ- 
ence of her profundity; but, sirrah, hark a little. 

Oni. O rare ! what, what ? passing, i' faith ; 
what is't, what is't ? 

Jun. What wilt thou say now, if Rachel stand 
now, and play hity-tity through the keyhole, to 
behold the equipage of thy person ? 

Oni. O sweet equipage ! try, good Juniper, 
tickle her, talk, talk ; O rare ! 

Jun. Mistress Rachel ! — watch then if her father 
come — [goes to the door.'] — Rachel! Madonna! 
Rachel ! No ? 

Oni. Say I am here ; Onion, or Peter, or so. 

Jun. No, I'll knock; we'll not stand upon hori- 
zons and tricks, but fall roundly to the matter. 

Oni. Well said, sweet Juniper. Horizons, hang 
'em ! knock, knock. [Juniper knocks. 

Rack. \_within.~\ Who's there ? father? 

Jun. Father ! no ; and yet a father, if you 
please to be a mother. 

Oni. Well said, Juniper; to her again ; a smack 
or two more of the mother. 

Jun. Do you hear, sweet soul, sweet Radamant, 
sweet Machavel ? one word, Melpomene ; are you 
at leisure ? 

Rack, [within.] At leisure ! what to do ? 

Jun. To do what ! to do nothing, but to be 
liable to the ecstacy of true love's exigent or so ; 
you smell my meaning. 

Oni. Smell! filthy, fellow Juniper, filthy! smell! 
O most odious ! 

Jun. How, filthy ? 

Oni. Filthy, by this finger ! Smell ! smell a 
rat, smell a pudding. Away, these tricks are for 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 61 

trulls ; a plain wench loves plain dealing ; I'll 
upon [her] myself. Smell/ — to a marchpane wench? 
Jun. With all my heart; I'll be legimate and 
silent as an apple-squire; I'll see nothing and say 
nothing. 

Oni. Sweetheart ! sweetheart ! 
Jun. And bag pudding, ha, ha, ha ! 
Jaq. [witkin.^ What, Rachel, my girl! what, 
Rachel ! 

Oni. God's lid. 

Jaq. [witkin.^ What, Rachel! 
Rack, [wit kin. ~\ Here I am. 
Oni. What rakehell calls Rachel ? O treason 
to my love ! 

Jun. It is her father, on my life ; how shall we 
intrench and edify ourselves from him ? 
Oni. O coney-catching Cupid ! 

[ Gets up into a tree. 
Efiter Jaques. 

Jaq. How, in my backside ! where ? what come 
they for ? 
Where are they ? Rachel ! thieves ! thieves ! 
Stay, villain, slave ! \_Siezes Jun. as he is running 
out.~\ Rachel, untie my dog. 
Nay, thief, thou canst not 'scape. 
Jun. I pray you, sir. 

Oni. [above .] Ah, pitiful Onion, that thou hadst 
a rope ! 

Jaq. Why, Rachel, when, I say ! let loose my 
dog; 
Garlick, my mastiff, let him loose, I say. 

Jun. For God's sake, hear me speak, keep up 
your cur. 

Oni. [above.^\ I fear not Garlick; he'll not bite 
Onion, his kinsman ; pray God he come out, and 
then they'll not smell me. 



62 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

Jaq. Well then, deliver; come, deliver, slave. 

Jun. What should I deliver ? 

Jaq. O thou wouldst have me tell thee, wouldst 
thou ? Show me thy hands, what hast thou in 
thy hands ? 

Jun. Here be my hands. 

Jaq. Stay, are thy fingers' ends begrimed with 
dirt ? no, thou hast wiped them. 

Jun. Wiped them ! 

Jaq. Ay, thou villain ; thou art a subtle knave. 
Put off thy shoes ; come, L will see them ; give me 
a knife here, Rachel ; I'll rip the soles. 

Out. \_above.^\ No matter, he's a cobbler, he can 
mend them. 

Jun. What, are you mad, are you detestable ? 
would you make an anatomy of me ? think you I 
am not true orthography? 

Jaq. Orthography! anatomy? 

Jun. For God's sake be not so inviolable ; I am 
no ambuscado. What predicament call you this ? 
why do you intimate so much ? 

Jaq. I can feel nothing. 

Oni. \_aboveJ\ By'r lady, but Onion feels some- 
thing. 

Jaq. Soft, sir, you are not yet gone ; shake your 
legs, come; and your arms, be brief: — -stay, let me 
see these drums, these kilderkins, these bombard 
slops ; what is it crams them so ? 

Jun. Nothing but hair. 

Jaq. That's true, I had almost forgot this rug, 
this hedgehog's nest, this haymow, this bear's 
skin, this heath, this furze-bush. [Pulls him by the hair. 

Jun. O, let me go ! you tear my hair, you re- 
volve my brains and understanding. 

Jaq. Heart, thou art somewhat eas'd ; half of 
my fear 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 63 

Hath ta'en his leave of me, the other half 
Still keeps possession in despite of hope, 
Until these amorous eyes court my fair gold. 
Dear, I come to thee. [Aside J\ — Fiend, why art 

not gone ? 
Avoid, my soul's vexation ! Satan, hence ! 
Why dost thou stare on me ? why dost thou stay? 
Why por'st thou on the ground with thievish eyes? 
What seest thou there, thou cur, what gap'st thou at ? 
Hence from my house. — Rachel, send Garlick forth. 
Jtm. I am gone, sir, L am gone ; for God's sake, 
stay. [Exit. 

fag. Pack ; and thank God thou scap'st so well 
away. 

Oni. [above.^ If I scape this tree, destinies I 
defy you. 

fac. I cannot see, by any characters 
Writ on this earth, that any felon foot 
Hath ta'en acquaintance of this hallow'd ground. 
None sees me : knees, do homage to your lord. 

[Kneels dow?i and removes the 
rubbish from, his treasure. 
Tis safe ! 'tis safe ! it lies and sleeps so soundly, 
Twould do one good to look on't. If this bliss 
Be given to any man that hath much gold, 
Justly to say 'tis safe, I say 'tis safe. 
O ! what a heavenly round these two words dance 
Within me and without me ! first I think them ; 
And then I speak them ; then I watch their sound, 
And drink it greedily with both mine ears : 
Then think, then speak, then drink their sound 

again, 
And racket round about this body's court 
These two sweet words, 'tis safe. Stay, I will feed 
My other senses. [ Takes tip some of the gold and 

smells of it.^\ O how sweet it smells ! 



6 4 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

Oni. \_above^\ I mar'le he smells not Onion, be- 
ing so near it. 

Jaq. Down to thy grave again, thou beauteous 
ghost ! 
Angels, men say, are spirits ; spirits be 
Invisible ; bright angels, are you so ? — 
Be you invisible to every eye, 
Save only these: sleep, I'll not break your rest, 
Though you break mine. Dear saints, adieu, adieu! 
My feet part from you, but my soul dwells with you. 

{Rises and exit. 
Oni. Is he gone ? O Fortune my friend, and 
not Fortune my foe, 
I come down to embrace thee, and kiss thy great toe. 

[ Comes down from the tree. 

Re-enter Juniper. 

Jun. Fellow Onion ! Peter ! 

Oni. Fellow Juniper. 

\_Jun.~] What's the old Panurgo gone, departed, 
cosmografied, ha ? 

Oni. O ay! and hark, sirrah. — Shall I tell him ? no. 

Jun. Nay, be brief, and declare; stand not upon 
conundrums now ; thou knowest what contagious 
speeches I have suffered for thy sake : and he 
should come again and invent me here 

Oni. He says true, it was for my sake : I will 
tell him. — Sirrah Juniper! — and yet I will not. 

Jun. What sayst thou, sweet Onion ? 

Oni. And thou hadst smelt the scent of me when 
I was in the tree, thou wouldst not have said so ; 
but, sirrah, the case is altered with me, my heart 
has given love a box of the ear; made him kick 
up the heels, I'faith. 

Jun. Say'st thou me so, mad Greek ! how haps 
it, how chances it ? 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 65 

Oni. I cannot hold it. — Juniper, have an eye, 
look ; have an eye to the door ; the old proverb's 
true, I see, Gold is but muck. Nay, God's so, 
Juniper, to the door ; an eye to the main chance. 
[Removes the rubbish and sheivs him the gold.] 
Here, you slave, have an eye ! 

Jun. O inexorable ! O infallible ! O intricate, 
divine, and superficial fortune ! 

Oni. Nay, it will be sufficient anon ; here, look 
here. 

Jun. O insolent good luck ! how didst thou pro- 
duce the intelligence of the gold minerals ? 

Oni. I'll tell you that anon; here, make shift, 
convey, cram. I'll teach you how you shall call 
for Garlick again, i'faith. 

Jun. 'Sblood, what shall we do with all this ? 
we shall ne'er bring it to a consumption. 

Oni. Consumption ! why, we'll be most sumptu- 
ously attired, man. 

Jun. By this gold I will have three or four 
most stigmatical suits presently. 

Oni. I'll go in my foot-cloth, I'll turn gentleman. 

Jun. So will I. 

Oni. But what badge shall we give, what cullison ? 

Jun. As for that, let's use the infidelity and 
commiseration of some harrot of arms ; he shall 
give us a gudgeon. 

Oni. A gudgeon ! a scutcheon, thou wouldst 
say, man. 

Jim. A scutcheon, or a gudgeon, all is one. 

Oni. Well, our arms be good enough; let's look 
to our legs. 

Jun. Content; we'll be jogging. 

Oni. Rachel, we retire ; Garlick, God b'ye. 

Jun. Farewell, sweet Jaques ! 

Oni. Farewell, sweet Rachel ! sweet dog, adieu. 

[Exeunt. 



66 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

[Scene 6.] 

Enter Maximilian, Count Ferneze, Aurelia, Phoenixella, 

and Pacue. 

Max. Nay, but — sweet count. 

Count F. Away! I'll hear no more; 
Never was man so palpably abus'd : — 
My son so basely marted, and myself 
Am made the subject of your mirth and scorn. 

Max. Count Ferneze, you tread too hard upon 
my patience ; 
Do not persist, I advise your lordship. 

Count F. I will persist, and unto thee I speak ; 
Thou, Maximilian, thou hast injur'd me. 

Max. Before the Lord 

Atir. Sweet signior. 

Phoen. O my father. 

Max. Lady, let your father thank your beauty. 

Pac. By gar, me shall be hang for tella dis 
same ; me tella mademoiselle, she tell her fadera. 

Count F. The true Chamont set free, and one 
left here 
Of no descent, clad barely in his name ! 
Sirrah boy, come hither, and be sure you speak 
The simple truth. 

Pac. O pardonnez moi, monsieur. 

Count F. Come, leave your pardons, and directly 
say, 
What villain is the same that hath usurp'd 
The honour'd name and person of Chamont. 

Pac. O, monsieur, no point villain, brave chev- 
alier, Monsieur Gasper. 

Count F. Monsieur Gasper ! 
On what occasion did they change their names, 
What was their policy or their pretext ? 

Pac. Me canno tell, par ma foi, monsieur. 

Max. My honourable lord ! 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 67 

Count F. Tut, tut, be silent. 

Max. Silent, Count Ferneze ! I tell thee, if 
Amurath, the great Turk were here, I would 
speak, and he should hear me. 

Count F. So will not I. 

Max. By my father's hand, but thou shalt, 
Count. I say till this instant I was never touched 
in my reputation. Hear me, you shall know that 
you have wronged me, and I will make you ac- 
knowledge it ; if I cannot, my sword shall. 

Co7int F. By heaven I will not ; I will stop mine 
ears ; 
My senses loathe the savour of thy breath ; 
'Tis poison to me ; I say I will not hear. 
What shall I know ? 'tis you have injured me. 
What will you make ? make me acknowledge it ! 
Fetch forth that Gasper, that lewd counterfeit. 
I'll make him to your face approve your wrongs. 

Enter Servants with Camillo. 

Come on, false substance, shadow to Chamont, 
Had you none else to work upon but me ? 
Was I your fittest project ? well, confess 
What you intended by this secret plot, 
And by whose policy it was contriv'd. 
Speak truth, and be intreated courteously; 
But double with me, and resolve to prove 
The extremest rigour that I can inflict. 

Cam. My honoured lord, hear me with patience; 
Nor hope of favour, nor the fear of torment, 
Shall sway my tongue from uttering of a truth. 

Count F. 'Tis well, proceed then. 

Cam. The morn before this battle did begin, 
Wherein my Lord Chamont and I were ta'en, 
We vow'd one mutual fortune, good or bad, 
That day should be embraced of us both ; 



68 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

And urging that might worse succeed our vow, 
We there concluded to exchange our names. 

Count F. Then Maximilian took you for Cha- 
mont ? 

Cam. True, noble lord. 

Count F. 'Tis false, ignoble wretch ; 
'Twas but a complot to betray my son. 

Max. Count, thou liest in thy bosom, count. 

Count F. Lie ! 

Cam. Nay, I beseech you, honoured gentlemen, 
Let not the untimely ruin of your love 
Follow these slight occurrents ; be assured 
Chamont's return will heal these wounds again, 
And break the points of your too piercing thoughts. 

Count F. Return ! ay, when ? when will Cha- 
mont return ? 
He'll come to fetch you, will he ? ay, 'tis like ! 
You'd have me think so, that's your policy. 
No, no, young gallant, your device is stale ; 
You cannot feed me with so vain a hope. 

Cam. My lord, I feed you not with a vain hope ; 
I know assuredly he will return, 
And bring your noble son along with him. 

Max. Ay, I dare pawn my soul he will return. 

Count F. O impudent derision ! open scorn ! 
Intolerable wrong ! is't not enough 
That you have play'd upon me all this while. 
But still to mock me, still to jest at me ? 
Fellows, away with him : thou ill-bred slave, 
That sett'st no difference 'twixt a noble spirit 
And thy own slavish humour, do not think 
But I'll take worthy vengeance on thee, wretch. 

Cam. Alas, these threats are idle, like the wind, 
And breed no terror in a guiltless mind. 

Count F. Nay, thou shalt want no torture, so 
resolve ; 
Bring him away. [Exit. 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 69 

Cam. Welcome the worst, I suffer for a friend ; 
Your tortures will, my love shall never, end. 

[Exeunt Servants with Camillo and Pacue. 

Phcen. Alas, poor gentleman ! my father's rage 
Is too extreme, too stern and violent. 
O that I knew with all my strongest powers 
How to remove it from thy patient breast ! 
But that I cannot ; yet my willing heart 
Shall minister, in spite of tyranny, 
To thy misfortune ; something there is in him 
That doth enforce this strange affection 
With more than common rapture in my breast : 
For being but Gasper, he is still as dear 
To me as when he did Chamont appear. 

[Aside and exit. 

Aur. But in good sadness, signior, do you think 
Chamont will return ? 

Max. Do I see your face, lady ? 

Aur. Ay, sure, if love have not blinded you. 

Max. That is a question ; but 1 will assure you 
no. I can see, and yet love is in mine eye. Well, 
the count your father simply hath dishonoured 
me, and this steel shall engrave it on his burgonet. 

Aur. Nay, sweet signior ! 

Max. Lady, I do prefer my reputation to my 
life ; — but you shall rule me. Come, let's march. 

[Exit. 

Aur. I'll follow, signior. O sweet queen of love! 
Sovereign of all my thoughts, and thou, fair Fortune, 
Who, more to honour my affections, 
Hast thus translated Gasper to Chamont! 
Let both your flames now burn in one bright 

sphere, 
And give true light to my aspiring hopes : 
Hasten Chamont's return, let him affect me, 
Though father, friends, and all the world reject me. 

[Exit. 



[Act V. — Scene /.] 

Enter Angelo and Christophero. 

Ang. Sigh for a woman ! Would I fold mine 
arms, 
Rave in my sleep, talk idly being awake, 
Pine and look pale, make love-walks in the night, 
To steal cold comfort from a day-star's eyes ! 
Kit, thou art a fool ; wilt thou be wise ? then lad, 
Renounce this boy-god's nice idolatry, 
Stand not on compliment and wooing tricks ; 
Thou lovest old Jaques' daughter, dost thou ? 

Chris. Love her ! 

Ang. Come, come, I know't ; be rul'd, and 
she's thine own. 
Thou'lt say, her father Jaques, the old beggar, 
Hath pawn'd his word to thee, that none but thou 
Shalt be his son-in-law. 

Chris. He has. 

Ang. He has ! 
Wilt thou believe him, and be made a cokes, 
To wait on such an antique weathercock ? 
Why, he is more inconstant than the sea, 
His thoughts, camelion-like, change every minute : 
No, Kit, work soundly, steal the wench away, 
Wed her, and bed her; and when that is done, 
Then say to Jaques, Shall I be your son? 
But come, to our device ; where is this gold ? 

Chris. Here, Signior Angelo. 

Ang. Bestow it, bid thy hands shed golden 
drops ; 
Let these bald French crowns be uncovered, 
In open sight to do obeisance 
To Jaques' staring eyes when he steps forth ; 

70 



7 HE CASE IS ALTERED 71 

The needy beggar will be glad of gold. — 
So ! now keep thou aloof, and as he treads 
This gilded path, stretch out his ambling hopes 
With scattering more and more, and as thou goest, 
Cry Jaques ! Jaques ! 

Chris. Tush, let me alone. 

A7tg. [But] first I'll play the ghost, I'll call him 
out ; 
Kit, keep aloof. 

Chris. But, Signior Angelo, 
Where will yourself and Rachel stay for me, 
After the jest is ended ? 

Ang. Mass, that's true : 
At the old priory behind St. Foy's. 

Chris. Agreed, no better place : I'll meet you 
there. [ Retires dropping the gold. 

Ang. Do, good fool, do ; but I'll not meet you 
there. 
Now to this gear. — Jaques ! Jaques ! what, Jaques ! 

Jaq. \within\ Who calls? who's there! 

Ang. Jaques ! 

Jaq. \^within\ Who calls ? 

Ang. Steward, he comes, he comes. — Jaques ! 

^Retires. 
Enter Jaques. 

Jaq. What voice is this ? 
Nobody here ! was I not called ? I was ; 
And one cried Jaques with a hollow voice. 
I was deceiv'd ; no, I was not deceiv'd. 

[ Sees the gold. 

See, see, it was an angel call'd me forth 
Gold, gold, man-making gold ! another star ! 
Drop they from heaven? no, no, my house, 1 hope, 
Is haunted with a fairy. My dear Lar, 
My household god, my fairy, on my knees — 
Chris. \within\ Jaques! 



72 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

Jag. My Lar doth call me ; O sweet voice, 
Musical as the spheres ! see, see, more gold ! 
Chris, [within]. Jaques ! 
Jag. What, Rachel, Rachel ! 

Enter Rachel. 

Lock my door 
Look to my house. 

Chris. [within], Jaques! 
Jag. Shut fast my door. 
A golden crown ! Jaques shall be a king. 

[Exit, following the sowid, and pickifig up the gold. 

Ang. [comes forward]. To a fool's paradise that 
path will bring 
Thee and thy household Lar. 

Rach. What means my father ? 
I wonder what strange humour — 

Ang. Come, sweet soul, 
Leave wondering, start not, 'twas I laid this plot, 
To get thy father forth. 

Rach. O Angelo ! 

Ang. O me no O's, but hear; my lord your love, 
Paulo Ferneze, is return'd from war, 
Lingers at Pont Valerio, and from thence 
By post, at midnight last, L was conjur'd 
To man you thither. Stand not on replies ; 
A horse is saddled for you ; — will you go ? 
And I am for you ; if you will stay, why so. 

Rach. O Angelo, each minute is a day 
Till my Ferneze come ; come, we'll away, sir. 

[Exit. 

Ang. Sweet soul, I guess thy meaning by thy 
looks ; 
At Pont Valerio thou thy love shalt see, 
But not Ferneze. — Steward, fare you well. 
You wait for Rachel too : when ! can you tell ? 

[Exit hastily. 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 73 

Re-enter Jaques with his hands full of money. 

Jaq. O in what golden circle have L danc'd ! 
Milan, these odorous and enflower'd fields 
Are none of thine ; no, here's Elysium ; 
Here blessed ghosts do walk ; this is the court 
And glorious palace where the god of gold 
Shines like the sun, of sparkling majesty. 
O [my] fair-feathered, my red-breasted birds, 
Come fly with me, I'll bring you to a choir, 
Whose consort being sweetened with your sound, 
The music will be fuller, and each hour 
These ears shall banquet with your harmony. 

! O ! O ! [Exit. 

Re-enter Christophero. 

Chris. At the old priory behind St. Foy's, 
That was the place of our appointment, sure ; 

1 hope he will not make me lose my gold 
And mock me too; perhaps they are within ; 
I'll knock. 

Jaq. \within\. O God! the case is altered. 
Chris. Rachel ! Angelo ! Signior Angelo ! 
Re-enter Jaques. 

Jaq. Angels ! ay, where ? mine angels ! where's 
my gold ! 
Why, Rachel ! O thou thievish cannibal ! 
Thou eat'st my flesh in stealing of my gold. 
Chris. What gold ? 

Jaq. What gold? Rachel! call help, come forth! 
I'll rip thine entrails, but I'll have my gold. 
Rachel ! why comes thou not ? I am undone. 
Ay me, she speaks not! thou hast slain my child. 

[Exit. 

Chris. What, is the man possest, trow ! this is 
strange ! 
Rachel, I see, is gone with Angelo. 



74 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

Well, I'll once again unto the priory, 

And see if I can meet them. [Exit. 

Re-enter Jaques. 

Jaq. 'Tis too true, 
Thou'st made away my child, thou hast my gold : 
O what hyena call'd me out of doors ? 
The thief is gone, my gold's gone, Rachel's gone, 
All's gone ! save that L spend my cries in vain ; 
But I'll hence too, and die, or end this pain. [Exit. 

[Scene 2.] 

Enter Juniper and Onion [richly dressed, and drunk, followed 
by~\ Finio and Valentine. 

Jun. 'Swounds, let me go ; hey, catso ! catch 
him alive ; I call, I call, boy ; I come, L come, 
sweetheart. 

Oni. Page, hold my rapier, while I hold my 
friend here. 

Val. O here's a sweet metamorphosis ! a couple 
of buzzards turned to a pair of peacock c 

Jun. Signior Onion, lend me thy boy to unhang 
my rapier. 

Oni. Signior Juniper, for once or so ; but troth 
is, you must inveigle, as I have done, my lord's 
page here, a poor follower of mine. 

Jun. Hey ho ! your page then shall not be 
superintendent upon me? he shall not be addicted? 
he shall not be incident, he shall not be incident, 
he shall not be incident, shall he ? 

[He foins with his rapier. 

Fin. O sweet Signior Juniper. 

Jun. 'Sblood, stand away, princox ! do not 
aggravate my joy. 

Val. Nay, good Master Onion. 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 75 

Oni. Nay, and he have the heart to draw my 
blood, let him come. 

Jun. I'll slice you, Onion ; I'll slice you. 

Oni. I'll cleave you, Juniper. 

Val. Why, hold, hold, ho! what do you mean? 

Jun. Let him come, ingle ; stand by, boy, his 
alabaster blade cannot fear me. 

Fin. Why hear you, sweet signior, let not there 
be any contention between my master and you 
about me ; if you want a page, sir, I can help you 
to a proper stripling. 

Jun. Canst thou ! what parentage, what ances- 
try, what genealogy is he ? 

Fin. A French boy, sir. 
un. Has he his French linguist ? has he ? 

Fin. Ay, sir. 

Jun. Then transport him ; here's a crusado for 
thee. 

Oni. You will not imbezzle my servant with 
your benevolence, will you ? hold, boy, there's a 
portmanteau for thee. 

Fin. Lord, sir ! 

Oni. Do take it, boy; it's three pounds ten 
shillings, a portmanteau. 

Fin. I thank your lordship. [Exit. 

Jun. Sirrah ningle, thou art a traveller, and I 
honour thee. I prithee discourse, cherish thy 
muse, discourse. 

Val. Of what, sir ? 

Jun. Of what thou wilt ; 'sblood, hang sorrow. 

Oni. Prithee, Valentine, assoil me one thing. 

Val. 'Tis pity to soil you, sir, your new ap- 
parel — 

Oni. Mass, thou say'st true, apparel makes a 
man forget himself. 

Jun. Begin, find your tongue, ningle. 



76 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

Val. Now will I gull these ganders rarely. 
Gentlemen, having in my peregrination through 
Mesopotamia — 

Jun. Speak legibly, this game's gone, without 
the great mercy of God. Here's a fine tragedy 
indeed ! there's a keisar royal ! 'slid, nor king nor 
keisar shall — 

Re-e?iter Fino with Pacue, Balthasar, and Martino. 

Bal. Where, where, Finio, where be they ? 

Jun. Go to, I'll be with you anon. 

Oni. O here's the page, Signior Juniper. 

Jun. What saith Monsieur Onion, boy ? 

Fin. What say you, sir ? 

Jun. Tread out, boy. 

Fin. Take up, you mean, sir. 

Jun. Tread out, I say; so! I thank you, — is 
this the boy ? 

Pac. Oui, monsieur. 

Jun. Who gave you that name ? 

Pac. Give me de name, vat name ? 

Oni. He thought your name had been We. 
Young gentleman, you must do more than his 
legs can do for him, bear with him, sir. 

Jun. Sirrah, give me instance of your carriage; 
you'll serve my turn, will you ? 

Pac. Vat turn ? upon the toe ! 

Fin. O signior, no. 

Jun. Page, will you follow me ? I'll give you 
good exhibition. 

Pac. By gar, shall not alone follow you, but 
shall lead you too. 

Oni. Plaguy boy! he soothes his humour; these 
French villains ha' pocky wits. 

Jun. Here, disarm me, take my semitary. 

Val. O rare ! this would be a rare man, and 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 77 

he had a little travel. — Balthasar, Martino, put 
off your shoes, and bid him cobble them. 

Jun. Friends, friends, but pardon me ; for, fel- 
lows, no more in occupation, no more in corpora- 
tion ; 'tis so, pardon me; the case is altered; 
this is law, but I'll stand to nothing. 

Pac. Fait, so me tink. 

Jun. Well, then God save the duke's majesty; 
is this any harm now? speak, is this any harm now? 

Oni. No, nor good neither, 'sblood ! — 

Jun. Do you laugh at me, do you laugh at me, 
do you laugh at me? 

Val. Ay, sir, we do. 

Jun. You do indeed ? 

Val. Ay, indeed, sir. 

Jun. 'Tis sufficient : page, carry my purse ; dog 
me. [Exit. 

Oni. Gentlemen, leave him not ! you see in 
what case he is ; he is not in adversity, his purse 
is full of money; leave him not. [Exeunt. 

[Scene 3.] 
Enter Angelo with Rachel. 

Ang. Nay, gentle Rachel ! 
Rack. Away! forbear, ungentle Angelo ! 
Touch not my body with those impious hands, 
That, like hot irons, sear my trembling heart, 
And make it hiss at your disloyalty. 

Enter Paulo Ferneze and Chamont [at a dista?ice.] 

Was this your drift, to use Ferneze's name ? 
Was he your fittest stale ? O vild dishonour ! 

Pau. Stay, noble sir. [Holding back Chamont. 

Ang. 'Sblood, how like a puppet do you talk 
now ! 



78 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

Dishonour/ what dishonour ? come, come, fool ; 
Nay, then I see you are peevish. 'Sheart, dishonour! 
To have you to a priest, and marry you, 
And put you in an honourable state. 

Rack. To marry me ! O heaven ! can it be 
That men should live with such unfeeling souls, 
Without or touch of conscience or religion ? 
Or that their warping appetites should spoil 
Those honoured forms that the true seal of friend- 
ship 
Had set upon their faces ? 

Ang. Do you hear ? 
What needs all this? say, will you have me, or no ? 

Rack. I'll have you gone, and leave me, if you 
would. 

Ang. Leave you ! I was accurst to bring you 
hither, 
And make so fair an offer to a fool. 
A pox upon you, why should you be coy? 
What good thing have you in you to be proud of ? 
Are you any other than a beggar's daughter ? — 
Because you have beauty! — O God's light! a 
blast ! 

Pau. Ay, Angelo ! 

Ang. You scornful baggage. 
I lov'd thee not so much but now I hate thee. 

Rack. Upon my knees, you heavenly powers, 
I thank you, 
That thus have tam'd his wild affections. 

Ang. This will not do, I must to her again. 

[Aside. 

Rachel ! 

O that thou saw'st my heart, or did'st behold 
The place from whence that scalding sigh evented ! 
Rachel, by Jesu, I love thee as my soul, 
Rachel, sweet Rachel ! 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 79 

Rack. What, again return' d 
Unto this violent passion ! 

Aug: Do but hear me ; 
By heaven I love you, Rachel. 

Rack. Pray forbear. 
O that my Lord Ferneze were but here ! 

Ang. 'Sblood ! an he were, what would he do ? 

Pan. [rushes forward.^ This would he do, base 
villain. [Flings him of. 

Rack. My dear lord ! [Runs into his arms. 

Pan. Thou monster, even the soul of treachery! 
O what dishonoured title of reproach 
May my tongue spit in thy deserved face ! 
Methinks my very presence should invert 
The steeled organs of those traitorous eyes, 
To take into thy heart, and pierce it through. 
Turn'st thou them on the ground ? wretch, dig a 

grave 
With their sharp points, to hide thy abhorred 

head — 
Sweet love, thy wrongs have been too violent 
Since my departure from thee, I perceive ; 
But now true comfort shall again appear, 
And, like an armed angel, guard thee safe 
From all the assaults of covered villany. 
Come, monsieur, let's go, and leave this wretch 
To his despair. 

Ang. My noble Ferneze ! 

Pan. What, canst thou speak to me, and not 
thy tongue, 
Forc'd with the torment of thy guilty soul, 
Break that infected circle of thy mouth, 
Like the rude clapper of a crazed bell ! 
I, that in thy bosom lodg'd my soul, 
With all her train of secrets, thinking them 
To be as safe and richly entertained 



8o THE CASE IS ALTERED 

As in a prince's court or tower of strength : 
And thou to prove a traitor to my trust, 
And basely to expose it ! O this world ! 

Aug: My honourable lord. 
Pau. The very owl, 
Whom other birds do stare and wonder at, 
Shall hoot at thee ; and snakes, in every bush, 
Shall deaf thine ears with their — 

Cha. Nay, good my lord, 
Give end unto your passions. 

Ang. You shall see 
I will redeem your lost opinion. 

Rack. My lord, believe him, 

Cha. Come, be satisfied : 
Sweet lord, you know our haste ; let us to horse, 
The time for my engaged return is past. 
Be friends again, take him along with you. 

Pau. Come, Signior Angelo, hereafter prove 
more true. \Exeunt. 

[Scene 4. J 
Enter Count Ferneze, Maximilian, and Francisco. 

Count F. Tut, Maximilian, for your honoured 
self 
I am persuaded ; but no words shall turn 
The edge of purpos'd vengeance on that wretch. 
Come, bring him forth to execution. — 
Enter Servants with Camillo bound. 

I'll hang him for my son; he shall not 'scape, 
Had he a hundred lives. — Tell me, vile slave, 
Think'st thou I love my son ? is he my flesh ? 
Is he my blood, my life ? and shall all these 
Be tortur'd for thy sake, and not reveng'd ? — 
Truss up the villain. 

Max. My lord, there is no law to confirm this 
action ; 
'Tis dishonourable. 



THE CASE IS ALTERED Si 

Count F. Dishonourable, Maximilian ! 
It is dishonourable in Chamont : 
The day of his prefixed return is past, 
And he shall pay for it. 

Cam. My lord, my lord, 
Use your extremest vengeance ; I'll be glad 
To suffer ten times more for such a friend. 

Count F. O resolute and peremptory wretch ! 

Fran. My honoured lord, let us entreat a word. 

Count F. I'll hear no more ; I say he shall not 
live ; 
Myself will do it. — Stay, what form is this 
Stands betwixt him and me, and holds my hand ? 
What miracle is this ? 'tis my own fancy 
Carves this impression in me ; my soft nature, 
That ever hath retained such foolish pity 
Of the most abject creature's misery, 
That it abhors it. What a child am I 
To have a child ! ah me ! my son, my son ! 

[ Weeps, and walks aside. 

Enter Christophero. 

Chris. O my dear love, what is become of thee? 
What unjust absence layest thou on my breast, 
Like weights of lead, when swords are at my back, 
That run me thorough with thy unkind flight ! 
My gentle disposition waxeth wild ; 
I shall run frantic. O my love, my love ! 

Enter Jaques. 

Jaq. My gold, my gold, my life, my soul, my 
heaven ! 
What is become of thee ? see, I'll impart 
My miserable loss to my good lord. — 
Let me have search, my lord, my gold is gone. 



82 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

Count F. My son, Christophero, — think'st it 
possible 
Lever shall behold his face again ? 

Chris. O father, where's my love ? were you 
so careless 
To let an unthrift steal away your child ? 

Jag. I know your lordship may find out my 
gold. 
For God's sake pity me ; justice, sweet lord ! 

Count F. Now they have young Chamont, 
Christophero, 
Surely they never will restore my son. 

Chris. Who would have thought you could 
have been so careless, 
To lose your only daughter ? 

Jag. Who would think 
That looking to my gold with such hare's eyes, 
That ever open, ay, even when they sleep, 
I thus should lose my gold ! my noble lord, 
What says your lordship ? 

Count F. O my son, my son ! 

Chris. My dearest Rachel ! 

Jag. My most honey gold ! 

Count F. Hear me, Christophero. 

Chris. Nay, hear me, Jaques. 

Jag. Hear me, most honour'd lord. 

Max. What rule is here ? 

Count F. O God, that we should let Chamont 
escape ! 

Chris. Ay, and that Rachel, such a virtuous 
maid, 
Should be thus stolen away! 

Jag. And that my gold, 
Being so hid in earth, should be found out ! 

Max. O confusion of languages, and yet no 
tower of Babel ! 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 83 

Enter Aurelia and Phoenixella. 

Fran. Ladies, beshrew me, if you come not fit 
To make a jangling consort ; will you laugh 
To see three constant passions ? 

Max. Stand by, I will urge them. — 
Sweet count, will you be comforted ? 

Count F. It cannot be 
But he is handled the most cruelly 
That ever any noble prisoner was. 

Max. Steward, go cheer my lord. 

Chris. Well, if Rachel took her flight willingly — 

Max. Sirrah, speak you touching your daugh- 
ter's Might ? 

Jaq. O that I could so soon forget to know 
The thief again that had my gold, my gold ! 
Max. Is not this pure ? 

Count F. O thou base wretch, I'll drag thee 
through the streets ; 
And as a monster make thee wondered at — 

Efiter Balthasar. 
How now ? [Balthasar whispers with him 

Phosn. Sweet gentleman, how too unworthily 
Art thou thus tortured ! Brave Maximilian, 
Pity the poor youth, and appease my father. 

Count F. How! my son return'd! O Maximilian, 
Francisco, daughters, bid him enter here. 
Dost thou not mock me ? — 

Enter Paulo Ferneze, Rachel, Chamont, and Angelo. 

O, my dear Paulo, welcome. 
Max. My Lord Chamont ! 
Cha. My Gasper ! 
Chris. Rachel ! 

Jaq. My gold, Rachel, my gold ? 
Count F. Somebody bid the beggar cease his 
noise. 



84 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

Chris. O Signior Angelo, would you deceive 
Your honest friend that simply trusted you ? — 
Well, Rachel, I am glad thou art here again. 

Ang. I'faith, she is not for you, steward. 

Jaq. I beseech you, madam, urge your father. 

Phcen. I will anon ; good Jaques, be content. 

Aur. Now God a mercy, Fortune, and sweet 
Venus, 
Let Cupid do his part, and all is well. 

Phcen. Methinks my heart's in heaven with this 
comfort. 

Cha. Is this the true Italian courtesy ? 
Ferneze, were you tortur'd thus in France ? 
By my soul's safety — 

Count F. My most noble lord, [Kneels. 

I do beseech your lordship. 

Cha. Honoured count, [Raises him. 

Wrong not your age with flexure of a knee, 
I do impute it to those cares and .griefs 
That did torment you in your absent son. 

Count F. O worthy gentlemen, 1 am asham'd 
That my extreme affection to my son 
Should give my honour so uncur'd a maim ; 
But my first son being in Vicenza lost — 

Cha. How ? in Vicenza ? lost you a son there ? 
About what time, my lord ? 

Count F. O' the same night 
Wherein your noble father took the town. 

Cha. How long's that since, my lord ? can you 
remember ? 

Cotmt F. 'Tis now well nigh upon the twentieth 
year. 

Cha. And how old was he then ? 

Count F. I cannot tell ; 
Between the years of three and four, I take it. 

Cha. Had he no special note in his attire, 
Or otherwise, that you can call to mind ? 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 85 

Count F. I cannot well remember his attire ; 
But I have often heard his mother say 
He had about his neck a tablet, 
Given to him by the Emperor Sigismund, 
His godfather, with this inscription, 
Under the figure of a silver globe, 
In mtnimo mundus. 

Cha. How did you call 
Your son, my lord ? 

Count F. Camillo, Lord Chamont. 

Cha. Then no more my Gasper, but Camillo ! 
Take notice of your father. — Gentlemen, 
Stand not amazed ; here is a tablet, 
With that inscription, found about his neck, 
That night and in Vicenza, by my father, 
Who, being ignorant what name he had, 
Christened him Gasper ; nor did I reveal 
This secret till this hour to any man. 

Count F. O happy revelation ! O blest hour ! 

my Camillo ! 

Phoen. O strange ! my brother ! 

Fran. Maximilian, 
Behold how the abundance of his joy 
Drowns him in tears of gladness. 

Count F. O, my boy, 
Forgive thy father's late austerity. 

Max. My lord, I delivered as much before, but 
your honour would not be persuaded ; I will here- 
after give more observance to my visions ; I 
dreamt of this. 

Jaq. I can be still no longer ; my good lord, 
Do a poor man some grace 'mongst all your joys. 

Count F. Why, what's the matter, Jaques ? 

Jaq. I am robb'd ; 

1 am undone, my lord ; robb'd and undone. 
A heap of thirty thousand golden crowns 
Stolen from me in one minute, and 1 fear 



86 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

By her confederacy that calls me father ; 

But she is none of mine ; therefore, sweet lord, 

Let her be tortured to confess the truth. 

Max. More wonders yet. 

Count F. How, Jaques ! is not Rachel then thy 
daughter ? 

Jaq. No, I disclaim in her ; I spit at her : 
She is a harlot, and her customers, 
Your son, this gallant, and your steward here, 
Have all been partners with her in my spoil; 
No less than thirty thousand. 

Count F. Jaques, Jaques, 
This is impossible ; how shouldst thou come 
To the possession of so huge a heap, 
Being always a known beggar ? 

Jaq. Out, alas ! 
I have betrayed myself with my own tongue ; 

THE CASE IS ALTERED. [Going. 

Count F. One stay him there. 

Max. What, means he to depart? — Count 
Ferneze, upon my soul this beggar is a counter- 
feit. Urge him. — Didst thou lose gold ? 

Jaq. O no, I lost no gold. 

Max. Said I not true ? 

Count F. How! didst thou first lose thirty thou- 
sand crowns, 

And now no gold ? was Rachel first thy child, 
And is she now no daughter ? Sirrah Jaques, 
You know how far our Milan laws extend 
For punishment of liars. 

Jaq. Ay, my lord. — 
What shall I do ? I have no starting-holes. [Aside. 
Monsieur Chamont, stand you my honoured lord. 

Cha. For what, old man ? 

Jaq. Ill-gotten goods ne'er thrive ; 
I play'd the thief, and now am robb'd myself. 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 87 

I am not as I seem, Jaques de Prie, 
Nor was I born a beggar as I am ; 
But some time steward to your noble father. 

Cka. What, Melun ! 
That robb'd my father's treasure, stole my sister? 

Jag. Ay, ay; that treasure is lost, but Isabel, 
Your beauteous sister, here survives in Rachel ; 
And therefore on my knees 

Max. Stay, Jaques, stay; 

THE CASE STILL ALTERS. 

Count F. Fair Rachel sister to the Lord Cha- 
mont ! 

Ang. Steward, your cake is dough as well as mine. 

Pau. I see that honour's flames cannot be hid, 
No more than lightning in the blackest cloud. 

Max. Then, sirrah, it is true you have lost this 
gold? 

Jaq. Ay, worthy signior, thirty thousand crowns. 

Count F. Mass, who was it told me that a couple 
of my men were become gallants of late ? 

Fran. Marry, 'twas I, my lord; my man told me. 

Enter Onion and Juniper [dressed as before^. 

Max. How now ! what pageant is this ? 

Jun. Come, Signior Onion, let's not be ashamed 
to appear ; keep state, look not ambiguous now. 

Oni. Not while I am in this suit. 

Jun. Lordlings, equivalence to you all. 

Oni. We thought good to be so good as to see 
you, gentlemen. 

Max. What, Monsieur Onion ! 

Oni. How dost thou, good captain ? 

Count F. What, are my hinds turned gentlemen. 

Oni. Hinds, sir! 'sblood, and that word will 
bear [an] action, it shall cost us a thousand pound 
apiece but we'll be revenged. 



88 THE CASE IS ALTERED 

Jun. Wilt thou sell thy lordship, count ? 

Count F. What! peasants purchase lordships? 

Jun. Is that any novels, sir? 

Max. O transmutation of elements ! it is certi- 
fied you had pages. 

Jun. Ay, sir ; but it is known they proved 
ridiculous ; they did pilfer, they did purloin, they 
did procrastinate our purses ; for the which wast- 
ing of our stock we have put them to the stocks. 

Count F. And thither shall you two presently. 
These be the villains that stole Jaques' gold ; 
Away with them, and set them with their men. 

Max. Onion, you will now be peeled. 

Fran. The case is altered now. 

Oni. Good my lord, good my lord ! — 

Jun. Away, scoundrel ! dost thou fear a little 
elocution ? shall we be confiscate now ? shall we 
droop now ? shall we be now in helogabolus ? 

Oni. Peace, peace, leave thy gabbling. 

Count F. Away, away with them ; what's this 
they prate ? \_Exeunt Servants with Jun. and Oni. 
Keep the knaves sure ; strict inquisition 
Shall presently be made for Jaques' gold, 
To be dispos'd at pleasure of Chamont. 

Cha. She is your own, Lord Paulo, if your father 
Give his consent. 

Ang. How now, Christophero ! The case is 

ALTERED. 

Chris. With you as well as me; I am content, sir. 
Count F. With all my heart; and in exchange 
of her, 
If with your fair acceptance it may stand, 
I tender my Aurelia to your love. 

Cha. I take her from your lordship with all 
thanks, 
And bless the hour wherein I was made prisoner, 



THE CASE IS ALTERED 89 

For the fruition of this present fortune, 
So full of happy and unlook'd-for joys. — 
Melun, I pardon thee ; and for the treasure, 
Recover it, and hold it as thine own : 
It is enough for me to see my sister 
Live in the circle of Ferneze's arms, 
My friend, the son of such a noble father, 
And my unworthy self rapt above all, 
By being the lord to so divine a dame. 

Max. Well, I will now swear the case is 
altered. — Lady, fare you well; I will subdue my 
affections. — Madam, as for you, you are a profest 
virgin, and I will be silent. — My honourable Lord 
Ferneze, it shall become you at this time not to be 
frugal, but bounteous and open-handed ; your for- 
tune hath been so to you. — Lord Chamont, you 
are now no stranger ; you must be welcome ; you 
have a fair, amiable, and splendeous lady: — but, 
Signior Paulo, Signior Camillo, I know you valiant; 
be loving. — Lady, I must be better known to you. 
— Signiors, for you I pass you not, though I let 
you pass; for in truth I pass not of you. — Loevrs 
to your nuptials, lordings to your dances. March 
fair all, for a fair March is worth a king; 's ransom. 

[Exeunt. 
The end. 



The Case is Altered 

a COMEDY 



By 
BEN JONSON 



PRESENTED BY STUDENTS IN THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO AT 

THE AUDITORIUM THEATER, MAY SEVENTEENTH, 

NINETEEN HUNDRED AND TWO 



Revised after the original edition of i6og 



CHICAGO 

THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO PRESS 
1902 



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